Fast Forward 6 Months
by JoiForber
Summary: It has been six months since Stephen Peacock resigned his position at Grace Brothers. Where's he been? No one has heard from him. Betty had glanced at his flat on her way to and from work and had not seen any activity. Can their romance be salvaged?
1. Knock Knock

Fast Forward- 6 Months Later

Knock-Knock

It has been six months since Stephen resigned his position at Grace Brothers. No one has heard from him. Betty had glanced at his flat on her way to and from work and had not seen any activity. In the evenings when she returned from work, it would be dark and quiet. She wondered if he still lived there.

It was Friday. Betty was busy doing housework. There came a knock at the door. She switched off the vacuum and opened the front door. She screwed her face into a frown.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Go back in. I am going to knock again. You answer the door like you've never met me before," said Stephen expectantly.

She went back in and closed the door.

"I should just go back to napping the rug…" she thought to herself.

He knocked again, checking his reflection in the window.

She opened the door, "Yes? May I help you?" she asked in her posh voice.

"Good afternoon. My name is Stephen Peacock," he tipped his hat, "I live a few doors down in Number 5. I've seen you around. I was wondering if I could call on you sometime."

He scratched his chin nervously. He looked at her hopefully, yet braced himself for rejection.

"I must tell you up front, I'm not in the market for a married man…" she said sternly.

"Good, because I am recently divorced," he stated, "What is your name?"

"Betty Slocombe."

"Where do you work, Betty Slocombe?" He searched her face.

"Grace Brothers. And you?"

"Woodward and Lothrop. What do you do at Grace Brothers?" he cocked his head slightly..

"I'm Senior Saleswoman, Ladies' Intimate Apparel. You?"

This exchange seemed rather redundant; he knew where she worked, but he wanted a clean slate.

"I work in the stockroom," he admitted.

"Manager?" her eyebrows raised.

"No. Sweeping. Packing and Maintenance," he said humbly, "Your Young Mr. Grace was very instrumental in securing this position for me." He looked down.

"I don't know whether that's good or bad," she mused.

"I'm happy to have a job at all. He could have called round and had me blacklisted. I've been told I'm a good cook; perhaps you'd like to join me for dinner sometime? May I have your phone number, Betty Slocombe? I would like to call on you sometime…if that's alright," he asked in anticipation.

"So, you're asking me out?"

"Yes."

"Like on a date?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"That would be nice; I'd like that," she smiled.

He handed her his famous little black notebook and a pen. She wrote her number down for him, even though he knew it by heart and she had not changed it.

"I have to ask you…"she started, smiling impishly, "on your first day…did they…you know…"

"Oh, yes, they did!" his face reddened, "It was most humiliating! I showed up for work dressed as I did at Grace Brothers. I didn't know what job I would be doing. The shop steward was handing me my smock and work trousers and a voucher for a pair of work shoes. Someone came up behind me and wrenched my trousers down _hard_! They got my boxers and my braces snapped; the whole lot was down around my ankles! There I was, exposed before the whole warehouse!"

Her face blanched, "Oh, my! You poor man!"

She laughed, as did he for the first time in a long time.

Her expression turned serious, "Did she _really_ have the pictures she threatened you with?"

Stephen's lips were thin and tight, his eyebrows raised and he nodded,"Oh, yes. The ones of us at the launderette were _very_ incriminating." He smiled proudly.

"Which time?"

"You were sitting on the washer, skirt hiked, I was standing between your legs. I had my hands on your thighs, and you had slid my braces down…" he smiled wryly.

"Oh! I remember that night! It was raining and you took off your jacket and waistcoat," she rolled her eyes and let out a long exhale through pursed lips, "Another five minutes on that wash cycle and that picture wouldn't have just been incriminating, it would have been evidence!" She chuckled devilishly, raising one eyebrow.

Stephen reached into his jacket and took out his wallet. He opened it, retrieved the picture, and handed it to Betty. Her face flushed and she gasped, wide-eyed. That was indeed a hot picture. The edges were frayed a bit.

"It looks well-worn," she quipped.

"Well-_loved,_" he replied, his eyes were intense.

"Oh! I'd like a stack of those to send out with my Christmas cards!"

"She had so many pictures you could have made a flip book!" he chuckled.

" I wonder how they took the pictures without us noticing."

"We did have our eyes closed and we were…distracted…it wouldn't have been too difficult."

"But the windows in the launderette were all fogged up!"

She handed the picture back to him and he replaced it in his wallet.

Betty took his hands in hers. His palms were rough and callused. Embarrassed, he pulled them back, curling them into fists. He sucked his cheeks in and looked down. She reached for his hands again. She took one closed hand and opened it, brought it up, and pressed her lips into the palm.

"There's no shame in hard work, Stephen. And you did get dressed smart to come talk to me," she smiled warmly, eyes shining, "Come inside; I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

"I'd like that. Thank you."


	2. Betty For Dinner

Fast Forward 6 Months Later

Betty For Dinner

It was Stephen's coffee break at 9 am. He knew there wouldn't be any customers at Grace Brothers at the opening bell, so he rang over. The switchboard operator put his call through to the Ladies' Department. Betty answered and his heart leapt.

"Betty? This is Stephen. If you don't have anything on for this evening, I was wondering if you'd like to come round for dinner. "

She smiled, "Yes, I'd like that."

He began figuring in his head what time he's pick her up- 'through at 6, change, bus ride home, wash up, set table…'

"Are you going to wear your pinny?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he teased, "How does half-past 7 suit you?"

"That will do me just fine."

"So I will pick you up at half-seven," he stated.

"I've got to go, Rumbold's walking this way. See you then."

"OK, Betty. Until then."

He hung up and did a Victory Flex, "Yesssss!"

One of Stephen's coworkers, Colin, walked up behind him, "Is that the one from Grace Brothers you're trying to get back with?"

He smiled and nodded, "She's coming round for dinner tonight!"

"Well done, mate!" he patted Stephen's back.

Stephen prepared the house for Betty's arrival. Everything looked flawless: the table was set with candles, wine, and flowers in a vase; he had soft music cued to play on the Hi-Fi.

He and Betty walked back to his flat, arm in arm. As they approached Stephen's flat, a brown scruffy-looking alley cat began yowling loudly.

"Oh, my! What a dreadful-looking pussy!" Betty lamented.

"Uh? Where? Oh, him. He's sort of adopted me," Stephen chuckled.

"Oh, he's so pitiful! He's only got one eye. Where did he come from?"

"He started hanging about a while back. I gave him a little bit of a sandwich I had left from the pub one night and I gave him some milk in a saucer. He's been here ever since. He listened to every aspect of the divorce. I call him Neville."

He reached down and scratched the cat's head. Neville purred loudly, rubbing around Stephen's legs.

"Why don't you bring him in? You could put in a cat flap." Betty stooped to stroke Neville's back. He looked up at Betty with his one big yellow eye.

"The boys in Building and Grounds knocked up a little cat house for him. They lined it with carpet from Mr. Woodward's office redecorating, I brought home a blanket that was damaged, and I put in his house. I must have looked a sight carrying his house on the bus! It's round back in the garden. I work too many hours to have an indoor pet. Could you see me at work going, 'I can't stay late- my pussy's been locked up 12 hours!' 'If I'm not home by the stroke of 7, my pussy goes mad!' It's bad enough your Mr. Lucas calls me 'Captain Slocombe'; I don't want people to think I'm pussy-whipped!"

She laughed.

After dinner, Stephen walked Betty home. He held her hand, his fingers interlaced with hers.

"I didn't know you still lived there," she said.

"Well, I have to be to work by 6 am to get the store ready. I come home at half-past 6, almost 7. Sometimes I work overtime or a double shift. This way I don't have to be alone for too long. I've been working like this for the past 6 months."

"That's why I haven't seen you," she mused.

"Fridays, in our pay packet, there's a voucher for a pint at the pub. It's to promote camaraderie," he chuckled.

"Do you go?"

"Occasionally. Sometimes I just want to be alone. Other times..." he sighed. Then he smiled excitedly,"I play football on Sundays!"

"You?" she sounded surprised.

"Would you like to come out and watch sometime? Almost every store has a team. We play against each other. The owners and managers put up wagers. We play for bragging rights."

"Do the teams have names? For instance, what is your team called?" still shocked. She _did_ think he looked thinner than he had 6 months ago, but she rationalized that it was because she hadn't seen him for so long.

"Well, since we're from Woodward and Lothrop, we're the Wood Chucks,"he chuckled nervously.

"Does Grace Brothers have a team? I had never heard of stores having football teams."

"Yes. They are the Brothers. Derry and Toms are the Tom Cats. They tend to keep the names simple, so you know which stores are playing. Also it avoids any confusion with real, professional teams. Harrods' team is the Kings. We're part of an association called Ambush Football."

"Who are you playing against Sunday?"

He let out a groan,"Sainsbury's- The Saints. The never lose. And they're so cocky and arrogant about it. Bunch of spoiled college boys! You should come along; it'll be fun. We usually go out for a pint afterwards."

"That would make it worthwhile."

On her doorstep, he leaned forward, pursed his lips to kiss her, and panic gripped him. He was nervous as to where his nose should go- left or right? Mouth open? Mouth closed? Tongue? No tongue? Eyes open? Eyes closed? Will his moustache prickle her lips? His heart thumped in his chest. Why was this so difficult?

His voice yelled in his head,"You're bunging it big time! You've got a picture of the hottest kiss of your life in your wallet, why are you faltering? You can do this! Kiss her!"

Betty could sense his apprehension. She reached up and put her hand on the back of his neck. He dipped his head forward and it all fell into place.

Early the next morning, Stephen woke a little earlier than usual. He had a task to do before heading for the bus. As he stood drinking his coffee in the kitchen of his flat, he began to scribble a quick note to Betty on a piece of torn grocery sack.

"_I never thought I'd miss you half as much as I do  
>And I never thought I'd feel this way, the way I feel about you<em>

_As soon as I wake up Every night, every day, I know that it's you I need to take the blues away. It must be love. Nothing more, nothing less, Love is the best.  
>How can it be that we can say so much without words?<br>I've got to be near you every night, every day  
>I couldn't be happy any other way.<em> **

_I love you. Stephen."_

Stephen folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. He left a few minutes early; Neville meowed at him as he stepped outside the front door. He bent down to pet him, "How are you, Buddy? I'm going to drop this note in Betty's letterbox on my way to work. Be good."

"Meow!"

The neighborhood was quiet and peaceful except for a dog barking in the distance.

He quietly walked up to Betty's front door and gently opened the letterbox. He dropped the note through and silently eased the letterbox door closed. Then he hurried to catch his bus, buying a newspaper for the ride to work.

** (Madness)


	3. Sunday Afternoon Football

Fast Forward 6 Months

Sunday Afternoon Football

They met on the field behind Woodward and Lothrop's. It was a very mild spring afternoon. Betty sat on the bleachers watching Stephen run up and down the field like a man half his age. She smiled. There were a few other people sitting and watching the game. When Stephen got the ball, Betty stood up and started yelling,

She was cheering loudly as he ran the ball, passed it to Colin, who shot it in.

The score was 12 to 8- Sainsbury's won. They all shook hands center field and the players peeled off.

"Meet at the pub, Stephen?" asked Paul, defender.

"Yes. Sounds good," Stephen answered.

"Is that her over there?" Richard asked.

"Yes. That's my Betty," Stephen smiled.

"It will be a pleasure to finally meet her," said Colin, grinning impishly.

Stephen walked off the field to Betty. He was sweaty and dirty. He reached into his sport bag for a sweat towel.

"Phoo! You smell bad!" she wrinkled her nose.

"I love you, too!" he said dryly. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, rubbed his chest all over hers and rubbed his sweaty face on hers.

"Oh, you're awful! Why would you do that?" she cried, pushing him away. He belly-laughed.

"I'm just marking my territory! I don't want any other men coming round."

He pursed his lips and leaned toward her. She backed away.

"You've been hanging around that tom cat of yours too much!" she retorted.

He wiped his face, neck and hair with the towel. He reached into the bag, took out a comb, and combed his hair. He sat down on the bleachers and took off his football boots. He pulled on a pair of sweat pants. Then he put on a pair of trainers. Betty watched him as he dressed.

At the pub, Stephen introduced Betty to some of the guys from the team:

"Betty, this is Colin. He plays Wing Back. Colin, Betty."

Colin smiled and acknowledged her, "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am."

"Next is Paul. He is a defender. Betty this is Paul."

"Charmed," he said.

"Next is Richard, AKA 'Big Dick'. He's our goalkeeper."

"Pleasure to meet you, Betty," Richard stood slightly.

"This is Jack, he is a striker."

"No, I'm not! I'm not a union man, Stephen!" he nodded his head toward Betty.

They ordered their drinks.

Betty whispered to Stephen, "I've got to go powder my nose."

"OK, Dear."

She walked away and he followed her with his eyes, smiling to himself.

"Somebody's got Stephen's heart," Paul teased in a singsong.

"She does indeed!" Stephen stated, nodding.

"It's cute seeing a 50-something year-old man smitten like a school boy," laughed Colin.

"Are you going to ask her?" Richard asked.

"I'm not ready yet…"

"If you don't ask her, I will," Richard warned.

Stephen's eyebrows shot up and he looked sternly at him.

"Look, he's jealous!" prodded Paul. They all snickered.

Betty returned to the table, oblivious to the exchange that took place in her absence.

"Betty, Stephen has something to ask you," nudged Jack. She smiled and looked at Stephen.

"Betty, are you ready to go?"

"We only just got here!" she protested.

"They're starting to get fresh!" He shot them a look. They all laughed.


	4. Surprise for Betty

Fast Forward 6 Months

Surprise for Betty

11 am. Stephen went for his 11:00 coffee break and dialed Betty.

"Ladies' Apparel," Miss Brahms answered.

"Hello, Miss Brahms, may I please speak with Mrs. Slocombe?"

"Hello, Captain Peacock! She's just finishing up with a customer. How are you?"

"I'm alright? You?"

"Good. Here she is," she said handing the phone to Betty. Betty removed one earring and put the receiver to her ear.

"Mrs. Slocombe."

"Hello. Is this the head of the department?" he asked in his Royal Signals' voice.

"It all depends. To whom am I speaking?" she asked in her posh voice.

The sound of her voice made him blush a little, "I need you to find out which weeks you are able to take holiday. I can put in for the same weeks. I want to take you on holiday with me. Make sure your passport is up to date."

"Where? Where?" she asked excitedly.

"It's going to be a surprise. Just let me know. I'm going for my coffee break, so I will talk to you later."

"OK, Buh-bye," she trilled.

"Bye, Love."

Betty placed the receiver back in its cradle and turned to Miss Brahms.

"Oh. Miss Brahms, exciting news! He's going to take me on holiday!"

"Where's he takin' you, Mrs. Slocombe?"

"He said it's a surprise and I should have my passport up to date," she gushed.

"You'll have to tell me as soon as you find out. I would never have believed this would ever happen after that day…"

"He has really changed, Miss Brahms."

"Oh, Blimey! You're not gonna to start singin' songs from _Beauty and the Beast_, are you?"

Betty was sitting on the couch in Stephen's lounge. He stood up, "Close your eyes. I have a surprise for you."

He walked out of the lounge to his bedroom closet and retrieved a shoebox covered in map sheets.

"You have your eyes closed, right?" he called from the bedroom.

"Yes," she said in anticipation.

"No peeking!"

He returned to the lounge and sat down next to her. He set the box on her lap, "OK, now open your eyes!"

She studied the box, which he decorated with a map of Italy and pictures from magazines and brochures pasted on it. There was the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Coliseum, a gondola boat, a pizza, and pictures of lips scattered all over.

"What's this?"

"Open it! I've worked a lot of overtime this year. I saved every bit of my overtime pay and bonus pay so I can take you to…"

"Italy?" She gasped.

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Betty looked through the box. Brochures. Plane tickets. Stacks of pound notes neatly bundled in gum bands.

"WOW! You have all this even after buying the tickets?"

"I worked as much overtime as possible while I was going through the divorce. It helped to stay busy. Sometimes I worked double shifts. Do you remember when Harman used to come in the department on payday and flash his wedge of cash? He wasn't joking!"


	5. Holiday In Venice

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Holiday in Venice**

Stephen sat on the veranda, reclining, his long legs outstretched. The room overlooked a canal. The veranda had a bistro table and two chairs. Stephen drank his coffee, watching the sunrise. He stood up and leaned on the railing watching a gondolier row by.

Betty woke up and discovered Stephen was gone. Sunlight streamed in through the French doors. She could see him standing, looking over the railing, and she watched him. He turned around to look into the room and saw her watching him.

"Good morning, Love," he called to her.

She got up and walked out onto the veranda to join him. They sat down at the little table.

"I made you some coffee in the kitchenette. I kept it warm for you under the saucer and a towel. There are also some strawberries I bought from a man selling them on the canal."

"You're ever so thoughtful, Stephen." She took a sip from the cup, "This is delicious. Lovely. Thank you." She yawned.

They watched a gondola go by.

She stood up, set her cup on the table, straddled him, and sat on his lap. She kissed him.

"Stephen? Is there something wrong?" she asked suspiciously.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we've been here two days already and you haven't tried to…you know…" she pressed, eyebrows raised.

He sighed, "I'm trying to behave myself."

"Couldn't we have a _little_ bit of misconduct?"

He closed his eyes and composed himself.

"Do you not find me attractive?" she asked.

"Yes. I find you deliciously attractive," he smiled and nodded, eyes fixed on hers.

"You didn't hurt yourself playing football with those chaps from Packing and Maintenance, did you?"

"No, the plumbing is working fine. Trust me. A little too well," he winced and rolled his eyes. He held his breath. He put his hands under her bum and lifted her slightly, shifted, and adjusted, "Be patient with me, please. I will explain everything in good time. I promise," he said, exhaling.

She started kissing him, touching his cheek, running her fingertips down his neck, "You know, this birth mark on your cheek is _very_ sexy," she drawled.

He ran his hands up and down her back, kissing her.

"Come on," he said, motioning back into the room, "Let's get dressed; I'd like to go for a tour in a gondola."

"Where's the loo?" she asked.

"Down the hall."

She returned a few minutes later, "You're off the hook for now, I've started."

"Thank heaven for that," he thought to himself and exhaled, relieved

A gondolier rowed up to the sidewalk outside their Bed and Breakfast. Stephen asked the price for an hour's tour and then paid the man. He handed the gondolier a camera.

They meandered along the back canals, enjoying the architecture and relaxing in each other's company. Stephen looked over the side of the gondola, "There's fish in the water!"

Betty looked over her side.

Stephen reached into his pocket. He sat, arm around Betty. He took her hand in his.

"Do you remember the last day I worked at Grace Brothers? The day I resigned?" he asked.

"Yes. Awful day."

"Quite," he nodded, "That day, as I walked up the stairs to the lift for the last time, I made a pledge to myself."

"Go on," she said dryly.

"I pledged that if I ever got a second chance at this, the next time I made love to you, it would be as your husband. Betty, would you do me the honor of being my wife? Will you marry me? I don't want to be friends with benefits anymore. I want to grow old with you."

"Before I answer, I need to know, can you be faithful?"

"Since that first night we spent together, I have been," he admitted.

She squealed, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him over and over. He smiled and gave the gondolier a thumbs-up. The gondolier snapped some pictures. Stephen opened his hand, revealing a ring. She offered him her finger and he slipped the ring on.

"This belonged to my grandmother," he said softly, looking deeply into her eyes.

She wondered how he managed to get Vivienne to give the ring back after the divorce.

She stared at the ring and smiled, "It's beautiful, Stephen! I love you."

"I love you, too, Betty. When we get back to England, we can start planning the wedding."

Monday back at Grace Brothers. The staff begins to file in and sign the book. Betty had a fresh rinse of fire engine red hair.

"How was your holiday, Mrs. Slocombe?" asked Miss Brahms.

"Oh, Miss Brahms it was so wonderful! We stayed in a Bed and Breakfast that overlooked a canal. We ate in the pubs; they have little tidbits of food, like a buffet, and you can make a meal out of little samples of everything. They have the most scrumptious wines. We ate fresh fruit on our veranda. We saw museums and took a gondola tour. We went for a gondola ride at night…so romantic. And," she said, showing Miss Brahms the ring, "he asked me to marry him!"

Miss Brahms' eyes widened and she grabbed Betty's hand to get a closer look at the ring, "Oh, Mrs. Slocombe! I'm so happy for you!"

Mr. Humphries, Mr. Lucas, and Mr. Grainger came rushing over.

"Did I hear right?" Mr. Humphries asked.

"Yes! Stephen asked me to marry him!" Betty gushed.

"Well done, Love! Congratulations!" Mr. Humphries hugged her and kissed her cheek.

"I am happy for you and Stephen, Mrs. Slocombe," said Mr. Grainger sincerely.

"Thank You, Mr. Grainger. That will mean a lot to him."

"Mrs. Slocombe, I know we bicker and argue with each other, but I am happy for you...and Captain Slocombe as well!" Mr. Lucas winked, smiling.

Mr. Rumbold walked up looking scornful.

"I will not have my staff gossiping on company time!"

Mr. Lucas muttered, "He's just sore because Young Mr. Grace hasn't replaced Captain Peacock and he's having to do two jobs for the same pay!"

"I heard that, Lucas!" Mr. Rumbold snapped.

"Mrs. Slocombe's getting married!" cried Miss Brahms.

"Well, Mrs. Slocombe, third time's a charm!" chimed Mr. Rumbold, "May I congratulate you and…er…er."

"Stephen," Betty answered curtly.

"Yes," he said flatly, "Now, everyone! Back to work!"


	6. Thunderstorm 2

Fast Forward 6 Months

Thunderstorm 2

Lightning and thunder exploded simultaneously. Betty jumped awake, frozen in fear. Rain sloshed the window in buckets. Betty snapped her eyes closed and braced for another barrage.

The phone began to ring. Crouching, she crept to the telephone stand in the hallway.

"Are you alright, Love?" Stephen's voice beckoned reassuringly.

"No. This is awful," she sobbed.

"I'll come right down there. Do I still have clothes there? Good. I'm on my way; meet me at the front door," he said softly and hung up.

Within a few minutes, he was banging on the door. She opened it and the wind blew him and the rain inside. The rain poured down in sheets.

"You're soaked!" she said, taking his umbrella and setting it in the umbrella stand. She handed him a towel. He wiped his face and hair.

"Thank you. My brolly blew inside out. I must have looked a sight! I'm soaked clear through to the skin."

Lightning burst outside and the thunder cracked and boomed. She jumped into his arms. He held her tightly.

"It's alright. Here. You'll get all wet. Let me get a hanger; I need to get out of these wet things."

Standing on the entryway rug, he kicked off his slippers, hung his bathrobe on a hanger, and stripped off his pajamas. He draped them on the backs of the kitchen chairs. He wiped himself dry with the towel, and stood shivering in his boxers. She took off her robe and handed it to him.

He laughed, "Thank you. I love frilly things!"

She led him upstairs, tightly holding his hand.

The alarm clock clanged at 4:15. Stephen reached over and tapped it off before it could disturb Betty. As he trod to the bathroom, he heard Betty giggling.

"I see your bum…"she tittered.

"If I turn round, you'll see something else," he teased.

"And then you shall be late for work! I _guarantee_ you won't make that 5:20 bus!" she cajoled.

"Go back to sleep, Love," he scolded, "I'll leave coffee for you in the vacuum bottle."

She pulled his pillow over, hugged it, laid her head on it, sniffed and smiled. She closed her eyes and fell back asleep. He shaved and afterward dressed in the dim light of the cracked-open bathroom door. He leaned over, kissed her gently on the cheek, and then went downstairs.

Coffee ready, he poured himself a cup in the solitude of the kitchen. Outside it was still dark. He got himself a bowl from the cupboard and put two Weetabix in, spooned some yogurt and a few strawberries on top. He poured the rest of the coffee into a vacuum carafe.

He sat down to breakfast and coffee as Betty entered the kitchen and startled him.

"It's early, Love. You really should go back to bed."

"I don't get to see you much. Thank you for coming last night. That was a really bad storm."

He smiled at her. She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed the back of his neck. He reached up and touched her arms. He looked at his watch.

"Oh, I've got to go!"

He stood up, went to the cupboard and slipped on his coat. She walked him to the door.

She touched his face, "Oooh, smooth..." she tilted her head up, "You smell _really_ good! I'm glad I got to see you before work."

He leaned over and kissed her, "I'll see you tonight."

She hugged him and he left, walking out into the cool, still darkness.


	7. Wedding Day

Fast Forward 6 Months

Wedding Day AKA "I Do, But Could We Do It Quicker?"

The day was set. Young Mr. Grace agreed to allow Betty and Stephen to be married on Sunday in the Ladies' and Gents' Department.

Colin's brother, a vicar, agreed to perform the ceremony. Mr. Grainger was the Best Man. Miss Brahms was the Maid of Honor. Mrs. Axelby was a bridesmaid. Mr. Lucas was an usher, as were Mr. Humphries and Mr. Harman. The canteen manageress offered her 2 year old for the ring-bearer.

Packing and Maintenance decorated the department beautifully. Grace Brothers catering provided the food: steak and kidney pie; tinned Japanese champagne, and little nibbly things.

The staff of Grace Brothers sat on the bride's side. Packing and Maintenance from Woodward and Lothrop sat on the groom's side. They made eyes at each other across the aisle.

The **ivory taffeta gown** featured a lace, beaded and floral embroidery treatment on corset bodice, and a full taffeta skirt. Mr. Humphries fitted Betty for her dress doing all the hand beading and embroidery himself. She had an heirloom veil, which belonged to her mother. Betty had preserved it all these years in a hatbox in the top of her closet.

The men received staff discount on the rental of their suits, since they were left over from the last time Betty attempted to get married. Betty dyed her hair a peach color to match Stephen's _boutonnière__. _

Stephen stood at the altar; his palms were beginning to sweat. Mr. Harman set the needle on the record and as the Wedding March played, the crowd was on their feet, and the ceremony was set in motion.

Betty stepped out from behind the fitting room curtain. Mr. Rumbold took her by the arm to lead her down the aisle as all stared.

Stephen gasped in astonishment and leaned over to Mr. Grainger, "She does look beautiful, doesn't she, Ernest?"

"Yes. She does, Stephen. Radiant. I am very happy for you both."

"I just hope I can be a better husband to her than I was to Vivienne," he lamented.

"Just keep your eyes on your own wife. Keep your hands to yourself. Keep your willy in your trousers and you should have no problems," he whispered.

"Sound advice, indeed, Ernest," he nodded.

Betty walked up the aisle on Mr. Rumbold's arm. Stephen straightened and stood a little taller, proud. She came alongside him and took his arm. He looked round back, tilting his head to the side, and gave her a top-to-bottom once-over.

"Very nice," he whispered to Betty.

Mr. Rumbold lifted her veil. Stephen's eyes widened.

"Wow!" he mouthed to her and held her hands tightly, "You look beautiful!"

The vicar began performing the ceremony when Mr. Harman tapped Stephen on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," Stephen frowned and whispered, holding up one finger, "What is it, Harman?"

"Cap'n Peacock, bruvah, sir, we 'ave an emergency!" he whispered, "Da boys from Woodward and Lof'rop's Packin' and Maint'nance are in a row wiff da boys from Grace Bruvahs' Packin' and Maint'nance. If you don' do somefing quickly, vicar will be refereein' a fray!"

"This needs to be handled in a dignified manner, like gentlemen. Tell the men we'll meet on the field behind Grace Brothers 30 minutes after the ceremony!" Stephen commanded. Then he turned to the vicar.

"Vicar, can we get on with it?" Stephen motioned his hand to the vicar to speed things up. He kissed Betty.

"We're not at that part yet!" the vicar whispered.

"Oh, oh, right, sorry!" he looked sheepishly at the vicar.

The vicar continued at a quicker pace.

"Do you, Mary Elizabeth Jennifer Rachel Abergavenny Yiddell Slocombe, take Stephen Nigel Anthony Peacock…?"

"Oh, snap! By the time he gets that lot out, they could be back from the honeymoon!" Mr. Lucas joked to Mr. Humphries. They both snickered.

"I do" she said.

"Do you, Stephen take Mary Elizabeth Jennifer …"

Stephen put his hand up, "Betty."

"Betty," corrected the vicar.

"I do."

"The rings?" hinted the vicar.

"Oh, right!" said Stephen. He reached down and removed the rings from the ring bearer's little pillow.

They each slipped a ring on the other's finger.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife…Blah, blah… Death do you part…no man put asunder…yadda yadda…You may _now_ kiss the bride, Stephen…again!" the vicar smirked.

"We did it! We really did it," gushed Stephen and he cupped Betty's face in his hands and kissed her, "You do understand about the game, don't you, Dear?" He gave her a boyish grin.

"Yes! Not even married five minutes and already a football widow!" she feigned annoyance, "I didn't realize that this is what they meant by 'grass widow'!"

"Mr. Harman," called Stephen, "would you be so kind as to get me a pair of size 12 football boots from stock? You can put them on Mrs. Slo-…um..er…Mrs. Peacock's…staff…account," he blushed, smiled broadly, and puffed his chest out.

It had sunk in. He wrapped his arms tightly around Betty, picked her up so she was eye-to-eye with him, and began to spin her round and round, kissing her again and again. One of her shoes had dropped off in the excitement.

Stephen picked it up and handed it to her, "Cinderella, you seem to have lost a slipper!"

"Are you going to be my Prince Charming?"

"I love you, Betty Peacock!" he laughed.

Stephen loosened his tie and went into the fitting room. He returned within a few minutes dressed in his football kit.

"Do you always wear your football kit under your clothes?" she asked suspiciously and smiling knowingly.

"Today is Sunday; we always play on Sunday! C'mon, Betty, you know that!"

"Today is our wedding day!" she protested.

"Even more reason to play! Thanks for being a good sport. Save me a piece of wedding cake, Love."

The men all filed out to go watch the game, leaving the women to their hen party.

"I can't believe your wife is letting you leave your wedding to go play football! Mine would have had divorce papers drawn up faster than you could say 'I do'!" said Colin.

"Does she have a sister?" asked Richard.

"Do you have room for an extra person?" Mrs. Axelby called over, "I play forward!"

"Come along!" said Richard.


	8. Back From Brighton

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Back From Brighton**

Betty arrived back at work after her 5-day honeymoon in Brighton. She signed in the book as "Betty Peacock" and began uncovering the counters in the Ladies' Department and setting out her and Miss Brahms' sales books. She counted the starting money in the till and made sure there were enough shopping bags set out. Even though it was a typical workday, it was her first day at work as a newlywed. She walked on air.

The lift bell dinged and Miss Brahms stepped out, descended the stairs and signed in the book. She saw Betty's signature and smiled.

"Mrs. Peacock, how was your honeymoon?" she trilled.

"Oh, it was wonderful, Miss Brahms! We went to Brighton and stayed right across from the beach. We were in the honeymoon suite at the top floor of the Bed and Breakfast. It had a gas fireplace in the room and a dumbwaiter that they sent our tea and breakfast up in. There was a huge bathtub right in the room. There was a big four-poster with drapes and a featherbed."

"OOOOhhh.. It sounds right lovely. Did you go walking on the beach?"

"Yes. We went and walked the beach at night. It was beautiful: the stars; the sound of the waves; Stephen built a fire and we snuggled in a big blanket and had the loveliest wine." Betty smiled guiltily at the thought, "I brought some pictures."

Betty took out a small stack of pictures and handed them to Miss Brahms, "We went on the pier as well. I haven't been on amusements since I was a little girl! We went on the Ferris wheel and the carousel. He paid the man a fiver to get us caught at the top for 15 minutes!"

Miss Brahms slowly flipped through the stack and smiled, "It looks like you two half had a right lovely time. You do look happy!"

"I am, Miss Brahms," Betty said softly, "Let's get to work before Rumbold comes over and starts kibitzin'."

* * *

><p>Stephen swept the stockroom around the locker area. He glanced down at his wedding ring and smiled.<p>

"Newlywed!" Colin called over, goading, "You'll like that ring 'til it gets caught on a box staple and nearly rips your finger off! Then you'll be taking your ring off when you get to work and leaving it in your locker with your clothes."

Stephen ignored him and continued sweeping. He started to daydream about his honeymoon as he swept, eyes fixed on an infinite point…

"_Let's go down to the beach; grab a blanket and I'll get one as well," Stephen suggested. "I've got a bottle of wine and two glasses."_

"_Now? It's late, Stephen. We could go in the morning."_

"_I like the beach at night; it's peaceful… and romantic."_

_Betty took a blanket off the bed and folded it. She and Stephen made their way down the stairs and out the front door of the Bed and Breakfast. They walked hand in hand as they crossed the street and trudged through the pebbles of the beach. The ocean roared in the darkness as they walked along. The pebbles made a scrunching sound and their feet sunk in a bit and the trudged on. They kicked off their shoes and carried them, plodding along. They arrived about halfway to the water; no one was about and Stephen spread out his blanket and dug a hole with his foot. Betty sat down and wrapped her blanket around her. _

_He found a few bits of wood, which had washed on shore, and set them in the hole. After some effort, he had a small fire crackling. He crawled under the blanket next to Betty and put his arm around her. Betty held her glass as Stephen poured the wine._

"_To us," he toasted. They drained their glasses and watched as distant ships' lights passed on the horizon. It was a clear and balmy night. _

_Stephen leaned over to Betty, "I could take you right here," he murmured, his voice like silk._

"_Here? In front of everyone?" she sputtered, eyes wide._

"_Shh…Shh. There's no one here but us! Besides, we'll be covered with a blanket. We won't take everything off," he softly kissed her. Even in the dark, she could see his intense eyes, "Lay back."_

"_We've got a room…," she protested, the wine going straight to her head._

"_I can't hear the ocean in the room. I can't smell the salty air in the room. I can't feel the sea spray in the room. There are no stars overhead in the room. We'll never have the opportunity to do this again."_

_She lay back. He pulled the blanket over them._

"_Look up," he breathed, turning his head upward and pointing with his chin._

"_They're so beautiful! One doesn't see them this bright in London," she cried, eyes sparkling._

"_Now you can tell your friends your husband made love to you 'til you saw stars!" he snickered and kissed her._

"_Oh, bloody hell! You cheeky thing, you!" she growled and smacked his shoulder._

Snapping back to reality, he laughed to himself and strode over to the drinking fountain. He stooped to take a sip and Colin came up behind him, "You took our advice and had it off on the beach, didn't you?" Colin chortled.

Stephen's eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and he scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous! Harrumph!"

He regrouped, swallowed hard, and clearing his throat, composed himself.

Colin leaned in, eyes narrowed, and arrogantly accused, "Oh, you're no different than the rest of us, _Captain_ Peacock! You come in with your creased work trousers, polished work shoes, soft manicured hands, starched white shirts, Regimental tie and cufflinks, and think you're better than us. You act all uppity, but you like a bit of dirty nookie like everybody else! You know that that was the best lay you ever had!"

Stephen and went into a paroxysm of indignation and stormed back to the stock room and began breaking down cartons.

Colin's derision followed him, "Yeah, watch out for those staples, Stephen!" he called, chuckling, "Oh, by the way, while you were in the Twilight Zone, we drew straws. When you get through bustin' up them boxes, Mel needs you to rod out the Gents' on the third floor; they've got a bunged-up khazi," Colin tittered as he walked away.

"Wonderful," he sighed.


	9. Head to Toe

Fast Forward 6 Months

Head to Toe

Stephen arrived home from work carrying a bouquet of assorted flowers. It was dark outside, about 7 pm, damp and chilly. He entered the front door, bent down to take off his shoes, put them in the shoe cabinet, and put on his house shoes.

"That feels good," he thought, "My feet are killing me!"

Betty walked into the lounge and hugged him. He straightened up, kissed her, and handed her the flowers.

"These are lovely! Thank you, Dear. I'll put them in water in a minute." She smelled them, "You are sweet!"

"Mmmmm…You smell wonderful; what is that? New perfume?" he amorously nuzzled her neck.

"Some new scent they're trying to shift at work. It's called 'Illumination'. I spritzed a bit on to try it," she explained

"I like it, I like it! Buy some. What are you cooking?" he sniffed.

"Just soup and bread."

"I must be really hungry. I swear, I smelled that all the way from the bus stop! The smell got stronger the closer to home I walked. I was thinking 'Oh, I hope that's coming from my house!' It _is_ good to be home," he smiled.

"I made tea. Do you want a cuppa now or after you shower?"

"After, thank you."

After Dinner

They sat together on the couch in the lounge. He was reading the paper, glasses on. She sat sideways on the other end of the couch, legs stretched, watching him. He looked over and noticed her staring. He smiled, took off his glasses, folded his paper, and set it down.

"How was your day, Dear?" he asked, flirting.

"Long. My feet hurt."

He turned, leaned toward her, and slid his hands up her stocking. He smiled impishly, raised one eyebrow, and unhooked her suspenders. He peeled her stocking off and tossed it on the back of the couch. He put her foot on his lap. He began rubbing her foot with both hands, firmly pressing his thumbs into the arch. She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip, curled her toes, and let out a low moan.

"Relax," he whispered softly.

He focused intently on his task. She watched him work, watched his eyes. He looked up at her.

"How's that?" he purred, looking at her from beneath his eyebrows.

"Lovely," she murmured breathily.

He did the same with the other stocking, slowly peeling it off, eyeing her legs. He caught a glimpse of the sexy underwear he picked out for her at Grace Brothers and did a double take.

"You didn't wear those to work, did you?" he asked jealously, eyebrows shooting up.

"No. I changed into them while you were in the shower."

"Oh, good. I don't want anyone else looking at them!"

He gently scratched the sole of her foot, "Do you have some nail polish?"

"What for?" she asked suspiciously.

"I want to paint your toenails for you," he said softly, smiling, and raising his eyebrows invitingly.

"You _are_ full of surprises! In public you are stodgy and tight-lipped and a proper Englishman. But behind closed doors, you are much different. You are sweet and sensitive and loving."

"Thank you for taking the time to find that out. I spent 15 years in an emotionless, sexless and affectionless marriage. I like all those things. A lot. And often!"

Betty got up, left the lounge, and returned with a bottle of lacquer and a pack of cotton wool. She put her foot up in his lap. He stuffed cotton wool

between her toes and shook the bottle. He concentrated as he daintily brushed the bright red color onto her nails. He gently blew them dry. She watched

him as he lovingly handled her feet. He looked up, pursed his lips at her and winked.


	10. Beating Sainsburys

Fast Forward 6 Months

Beating Sainsbury's

Stephen burst into the front door, bubbling, "We beat Sainsburys! Nobody beats Sainsburys! I scored three goals, one by accident- off my head!"

Betty rushed to the lounge, wiping her hands on her pinny,"What are you rabbiting on about?"

"We beat Sainsburys. Twenty to twelve! It was blinding! You should have seen their faces; they were livid! A bunch of old men slew them!" he was animated and his eyes sparkled. He was so excited he was giddy. He hugged her. She wrinkled her nose and pulled back a little.

"Why do you like the way I smell after work, but not after football?"

"You smell different after work. You put your regular clothes on. There's after shave still lingering on your collar. You smell like a hard day's work; you smell…sexy," she fluttered her eyes enticingly, "After football, you smell sour and you've got grass and dirt on you."

His attention turned to the aroma of dinner cooking, "Oooohhh..what's for dinner? Something smells wonderful."

"Sunday Roast, potatoes, peas and pearl onions, and home-made bread," she announced.

"My favorite dinner after beating my favorite team! Mr. Woodward was there. Oh, it was brilliant watching the Sainsburys' manager hand over a stack to Mr. Woodward! Then we all went out for a pint. Mr. Woodward gave us each this…" he said proudly and handed Betty a twenty pound note.

"That was nice of him. How much have you had to drink then?"

"Just one, and I didn't finish it; I wanted to come home and have dinner with you," he brown-nosed, his voice dripping with flattery. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Charmer! I just made a pot of tea; would you like a cuppa?"

"Yes, I would, please. Then I'm going to go up for a shower and shave before dinner."

* * *

><p>He stood in the bathroom, draped in a towel, shaving. Betty came in and stood behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, touching his belly, her head resting on his back, "You smell good."<p>

He set his straight razor down, turned to face her, and held her hands.

"Did you put dinner in the oven to keep warm?"

"Yes, on regulo one, and I wrapped the bread in a tea towel. The tea is under a cozy. It will still be hot when you come downstairs."

"Then how about bending over the edge of this washbasin so I can have dessert before dinner?" he winked.

She playfully slapped his cheek, "You are horrible! Is that all you think about?"

"Don't blame me; it's not my fault. I blame it on this sexy lady I live with! She brings it out in me," he professed.

"How so?" she crooned bewitchingly. She ran a finger along his jaw line and pursed her lips at him.

He began to talk about her in the third person, "Well, first off, she has these eyes- wild blue eyes- they dance, especially when she looks at me. Then she has this _mouth_ that I love to kiss. She has beautiful lips, a wonderful smile, and an infectious laugh. She has great big knockers that I love to lose myself in. She has lovely hips. And a big round bum that I love to grab handfuls of. Oh, and her thighs: I am addicted to her thighs; I could bite them! Another thing about her mouth- when she's calling out my name- it drives me mad! And she has these incredible legs; I want my hands all over those legs!"

He was animated and his eyes went all dreamy and glazed-over as he spoke through almost clenched teeth.

She was blushing as he finished. She could feel his heart pounding.

She looked down at his towel, "Captain Peacock, you seem to have pitched a tent!"

"Betty, if you keep talking dirty like this, you will sound common as muck, like those men I work with!"

"Fancy that!" she said dryly and left the bathroom in a huff.

"What about my dessert?"

"Get knotted!" her voice trailed off as she went downstairs.

* * *

><p>Monday morning, 9 am. With tresses of bright lavender, Betty arrived the next morning at Grace Brothers a few minutes after Miss Brahms. The two women uncovered the counters, folding the canvases, and stowing them in the lower cupboard drawers. Betty checked her make-up in the mirror. She took off her scarf, revealing an angry purple welt on her neck.<p>

Eyes wide, mortified, she stammered, "Oh, that little…OOoohh…I'm going to kill him! Blimey! That's awful! Miss Brahms! Emergency! Do you have any foundation or concealer?"

"Yes, Mrs. Peacock?"

Miss Brahms walked over Betty's side of the counter, saw the love-bite on her neck, and stopped short. Her eyes widened in horror and she did a double-take.

"Ere! What's that on your neck? You look dead common with that!" she shrieked.

"Shh..shh..Oh, don't I know it!" she hissed, "He played football yesterday and they beat Sainsburys. He came home wild-eyed! I don't know _what_ he was thinking!"

"Yeah, but we know what he was doin'!" she tittered.

"That'll do, Miss Brahms!" Betty snapped.

Miss Brahms handed her the bottle and Betty began to daub the make-up over the bite-mark on her neck. With the evidence completely camouflaged, she went over to the wall phone, removed one earring, and dialed over to Woodward and Lothrop and asked for Stephen.

"Captain Peacock speaking," he chirped.

"Naughty boy…"she drawled sultry and seductively, curling the phone cord in her fingers.

He smiled and shook his head a little, "Not again!" he whispered, "To whom am I speaking?" he asked in his Royal Signals voice.

"This is Sexy Knickers," she trilled.

"I beg your pardon?" he played along.

"This is Sexy Knickers," she repeated.

"That's what I thought you said. Are you a customer?"

"Customer, indeed! Stephen Peacock, if you _ever_ put a mark on my neck like you did last night, I shall forbid you from playing with those boys! They're a bad influence!" she scolded playfully.

"_You_ called out my name," he reminded her.

"You're my husband! It would have been awkward if I called out someone else's name, now wouldn't it?"


	11. Drizzly and Cold

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Drizzly and Cold**

Stephen came home bringing the cold and damp in with him. His eyes were puffy, his nose red, and he was coughing. He stooped at the shoe cabinet and changed from his shoes to his slippers.

Betty came into the lounge to greet him.

"Oh, you look awful," she said.

"I feel awful. We had to unload three lorries today. I was outside most of the day," he crabbed. He screwed his face into a sour pout.

She put her arms around him and noticed he felt warm. She looked up and he bowed his head to kiss her. She touched his face.

"Ooooh, you're burning up! Upstairs you go. I'll run a bath for you," she ordered. He nodded.

"Thank you, Love. I hurt all over. What a day," Stephen groaned. It seemed to take quite an effort to speak.

"I'll bring you up a cup of tea in a bit. Would you like some soup? I'll make it for you."

"The kind in the box? Chicken flavor with the noodles?" he asked hopefully.

"If that's what you fancy, that's what I'll make," she murmured

"We used to get that in the Army. They always brought us that when we went on maneuvers. We called it 'field soup'."

"You get undressed while I fill the tub," she instructed. He may have been a captain, but he believed that had she been in the Army, she would have been a colonel!

She poured in some aromatic oil and the room filled with steam and the scent of eucalyptus and lavender. He entered the bathroom draped in a towel and stepped into the hot water. She folded a flannel, dipped it in the water and placed it on his head.

"You soak a minute while I get your tea and start the soup."

"You do spoil me," he whispered dreamily.

"Don't get too used to it! I took an oath, you know…In sickness and in health...'Til Death Do Us Part and all. They've got it in writing," she teased. He tried to laugh, but it hurt to do so.

She returned a few minutes later with his tea and some aspirin on a small tray, "Here, Sweetie, drink this and take these."

He smiled sleepily, "Thank you." He took the cup and saucer and set it on the tub shelf. He sat up a little to drink his tea.

"I'm going downstairs to get your soup. I'll be right back."

"Mmm-hmm." He lay in the bath with his eyes closed, half asleep.

She went into the bedroom, set out a jar of Vap-O-Rub, and plugged in the electric blanket.

Carrying the tray, she went downstairs to the kitchen to stir the boiling soup. She turned off the gas ring, and ladled the soup into the bowl. She took the tray, went back upstairs, and set it down on the bedroom nightstand. She took a fresh towel from the linen cupboard and took it in to Stephen.

He teetered on the edge of the bed, getting dressed. Betty rubbed Vap-O-Rub on his back and chest. He moaned softly as she massaged his back.

"Here, raise your arms," she instructed as she slipped a vest over his head and smoothed it, "This will keep that stuff from getting all over your pajamas."

"It hurts to put my arms up," he said groggily. She handed him his pajamas and he slowly put them on. She helped him button the top.

"Oh, you're so pitiful! You get straightaway into bed," she said as she guided him to lie down. He nodded obediently. She pulled the blankets up to his chin, brushed his hair to the side with her fingers, and kissed him, "Get some rest, Love."

"You are so good to me, Betty. I love you," he uttered softly and smiled as he drifted off to sleep.


	12. Thunderstorm 3

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Thunderstorm 3**

The rain drummed steadily on the roof above Betty's head. She stirred in her sleep and settled again. Thunder grumbled softly. Lightning flickered dimly in the distance. All at once, the storm whipped up violently and the lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder ka-boomed and rattled the windows. Betty shrieked and sat bolt upright. Stephen's eyes popped open and he gasped.

"Are you alright, Love?" He reached over for her and drew her close. She wrapped her arms around him and held on as the storm began to churn wildly. The wind roared and the rain sloshed down.

"This is terrible," she fretted

"Then it's time to turn this into something…_pleasurable_," he soothed. He kissed her passionately, his moustache prickling her lips. She pulled back, agitated.

"_REALLY_!" she huffed, "how can you think of _that_ at a time like this?"

"I find storms to be _very_ stimulating. There's a lot of raw energy; it's very sensual. Relax." His voice was intoxicating.

He slid his legs out from under the covers, stood up, padded over to the window, and opened the transom at the top, "We'll hear the storm loud and clear. I love to listen to the rain," he returned to the bed, silhouetted, as the room was flooded with blinding white light and a deafening crash.

Betty snapped her eyes shut and held her breath as the whole house shook. He kissed her mouth and she timidly pursed her lips, eyes tightly shut. She held tight against him, shaking,

"Shh…shh," he whispered in her ear, "I'm right here. Hang on to me…"

He crawled on top of her, kissing her neck and shoulders. She gasped.

"Wrap your legs round me," he breathed

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please? Just do it," he implored.

Dutifully, she obeyed.

"Oh, Betty," he sighed in his Royal Signals' voice,"you _do _put the curl in my toes!"

The bed began to creak and groan. Betty raked his back. Lightning flashed like a strobe followed immediately by a loud clap of thunder. Betty continued to hang on, eyes closed. She craned her head forward and blindly latched her teeth onto his chest, which only managed to drive him wild. The creaking became more rhythmic and Betty responded. Her breath quickened and she let out a few faint moans.

"Come on…come on" he coaxed tenderly, "that's it…come on."

The thunder was drowned out by her cries of passion. She threw head back. She held onto his arms, her whole body electrified, her head swimming, and her thighs quaking. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and brow. Stephen watched as she lay there, her chest heaving, and calling out his name in ecstasy. A flash-bang of lightning and thunder erupted and they both flinched.

She collapsed, a soft smile playing on her lips. He buried his face in her chest, listening to her breathing, feeling her heart thump. He kissed her neck and her waiting mouth, kissing her hungrily. The storm raged on as he held her, crushing his mouth on hers, kissing her hungrily. Fully spent, she gazed up at him dreamily.

"I think I like storms now, Stephen," she breathed, her eyes rolling back.

He laughed softly, "I shall look forward to them from now on…"


	13. Captain Peacock's Baby

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Captain Peacock's Baby**

It was a cold, drizzly morning. Stephen had been doing his duty of pulling trash from all the departments and emptying dustbins. He went round back of the store to the skip to unload his rubbish trolley.

As he threw a black plastic trash bag in, he heard a soft sound from within the skip; it sounded like the mewing of a kitten. He stopped and listened. A bag moved slightly. Was it the wind blowing the bag? He leaned in to reach for the bag; it was just out of reach. He stood on his tip-toes and his fingers brushed the bag, but he could not grasp it. He went back into the warehouse and retrieved a small wooden crate to stand on. Grasping the corner of the bag, he discovered it was heavier than he thought.

He became angered that someone would be so cruel as to throw a bag of kittens in the trash. A sense of urgency washed over him when he thought that maybe only one kitten might be alive in the bag. He positioned the crate and climbed onto it, and sitting on the edge of the skip, swung his legs over and heaved himself in.

He sank past his knees in the trash and bags. With great effort, he slogged over to where he saw the bag move, slipping down to his knees with each step and being scratched by sharp box edges. Taking out his knife, he grasped the corner of the bag to cut it open.

"I wonder if Betty will let me keep the kitten if I tell her where I found it. She's got a big heart, of course she will," he smiled and mused.

He cut the bag open and looked inside. His eyes went wide in horror and he reeled back. He could feel the color drain from his face and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Cold sweat beaded on his face.

"Good God!" he gasped, shaking, his heart pounding. His breath quickened.

In the bag, barely moving and almost bluish in color was a baby. A girl baby. She was naked, covered in blood, her umbilical cord was still attached yet crudely cut. She had tiny fingers, which were blue. Her hair was matted with dried blood and gunk and her eyes were barely open. There were paper towels in the bag as well. Stephen unbuttoned his smock.

He reached into the bag and carefully lifted the frail baby out. He tucked her into his smock and began to breathe on her in an attempt to warm her.

"You'll be alright now. I've got you," he whispered.

He began to scream for help.

Richard and Colin heard him from inside the warehouse and came running. They looked around the yard and not seeing him, swung their heads toward the skip. They ran to the side of it and seeing the blood on Stephen's hands and smock, began calling for others.

"He's hurt! Get him out! Paul, Mel! Help!" yelled Richard.

"What are you doing in there, Stephen?" called Colin.

Stephen's arms were wrapped tight around his chest, holding the baby close to keep her warm.

"Give us your arms!" called Colin. Stephen shook his head 'no.' He held fast.

"Lean in, then!" Paul urged.

The four men grabbed him and handed him out.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" asked Paul. Stephen did not answer. His face was ashen.

Stephen opened his smock slightly. They all gasped, mouths agape.

"Mother of God!" someone stammered.

They ushered Stephen back into the warehouse. Richard ran to get Mel the shop steward and send for Sister. Mel called the police.

They escorted Stephen and the baby to Sister's office.

"Sit down. Let's DX that smock, Peacock," Sister said.

Stephen set the baby down on the table and took off his smock.

Sister gave him a fresh smock and put the bloodstained one in the laundry.

She took out a flannel, wet it with warm water, and began to clean the little baby. The baby barely moved. Sister made a nappy from a towel and put it on her, then

Sister wrapped her in another towel. The baby was not moving or making any noises. Stephen picked her up and held her. The police arrived and entered Sister's office.

Sergeants Cogswell, a burly man, about 40-ish with a ruddy complexion and hands like cannonballs, and Bradshaw, his junior, about 30-something with soft boyish features and ginger hair, introduced themselves and took out their notepads. They took down notes, Stephen's name and address, and a synopsis of events leading up to when he found the baby. The police sketched the area and asked the others if they had seen anything.

The ambulance arrived and the paramedics entered the warehouse, walking straightaway to Sister's office. Stephen set the baby down on the table so the paramedics could examine her.

The paramedics called back to the control center.

"Start an IV with D5W, TKO, and Ringers Lactate," the voice on the radio instructed.

"What's that for?" Stephen questioned.

"She's lost a lot of blood and has been exposed to the cold. There's no telling how long she was in the bin. The IV will help her fluid levels."

Stephen nodded slowly. He removed a cuff link and pulled up his sleeve.

"Take as much blood as you need," he offered.

"If it comes to that and we need to, we'll definitely take your offer."

The paramedic opened what looked like a fishing tackle box and removed a plastic bag of clear liquid and plastic tubing.

"That needle is bigger than her arm!" Stephen cried.

"Sir, would you hold her still, please?"

"It's OK…I've got you," Stephen cooed. He steadied the tiny baby but she did not move or even whimper as the paramedic inserted the needle. The paramedic looked grimly at the baby.

"That's not good, is it?" Stephen asked flatly.

"It's too soon to tell, sir. We have to take her to hospital now."

"I'm going with her," Stephen insisted.

"I'll tell Mel," Sister said.

"Thank You, Sister."

Stephen cradled the baby in his arms and carried her. He climbed into the back of the ambulance with the paramedic. Stephen set her on the gurney, keeping one hand on her. Her tiny eyes tried to focus on him. Stephen smiled at her. Her little lips curled upward and she sighed softly.

"Hey there," Stephen said softly.

* * *

><p>At the hospital, the paramedics took the baby into the emergency room.<p>

"This is as far as you can go, sir. You'll have to wait in the waiting area," the paramedic informed Stephen, directing him where to go. He nodded.

Stephen sat down on a cold plastic chair and waited silently. His thoughts drowned in the bustle and din of the emergency area. Doctors and nurses entered the emergency room and came out, but no one took notice of Stephen, who looked up in anticipation every time the doors swung open. The place smelled like antiseptic and rubbing alcohol. A TV droned from the nurses' station.

A doctor garbed in scrubs came out and headed toward Stephen.

"You came in with the baby from the skip?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, is she going to be alright?" Stephen asked hopefully.

"No, sir. I'm afraid she's died. Her systems had all shut down. She lost so much blood and body heat. We did everything we could for her. I am sorry. We need to fill out the death certificate. We have her listed as a 'Jane Doe'."

Stephen's shoulders slumped in defeat. Everything went to slow motion.

"You know, you've shown her the only kindness she ever had in her short little life," the doctor said kindly.

The doctor squeezed Stephen's shoulder and then walked away.

Stephen felt cold and numb. Sergeants Cogswell and Bradshaw, the police officers from the warehouse, walked up to Stephen to take a few more notes and tie up loose ends.

"Do you need a lift back to work, sir?" one of them asked.

He shook his head.

"No, I want to go home. I need to go home," he said, barely above a whisper, his brows furrowed.

The police escorted Stephen back to the house. He went inside and sat down on the couch, hands folded in his lap, staring blankly, silently waiting for Betty.

* * *

><p>Betty arrived home; it was dark outside, Stephen sat motionless in the dark of the lounge.<p>

Betty snapped on the light and jumped as she saw Stephen sitting on the couch.

She gasped, "You scared me! You're home earl-," she could see blood smeared on his white work shirt, "Stephen! What's happened to you?" she shrieked, her eyes wide with alarm.

He patted the seat next to him, quietly he invited, "Sit down, Betty. Let me tell you about my day."

"You're covered in blood! Have you been hurt?" she asked frantically.

He shook his head slowly, "That's not my blood, Dear."

He held her hands as he spoke.

"Stephen, your hands are shaking! You're scaring me."

Her eyes were pleading. He looked at her, almost through her. He held her hands as he spoke. He recanted the day's events and told Betty about the beautiful, helpless baby with blue eyes and how she smiled at him. He told her how the baby looked like a little angel. He described in vivid detail her little hands and toes and her little mouth. Betty listened intently, watching Stephen's face, and hanging on his every word. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. His red-rimmed eyes turned upward, and his lips barely moved. His chin wrinkled and his voice strained. He swallowed hard. Betty put her arms around him, hugged him tightly, and stroked his hair.

"Shh..shh. It's OK," she whispered.

The gravity of the day finally settled on him and he broke down sobbing.

"Where do you suppose she is? Do you think she's in heaven?" he asked, his voice distant.

She put her hand on his chest and patted him over his heart.

"She's in there."


	14. A Call From Young Mr Grace

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**A Call From Young Mr. Grace**

Stephen had just returned from his 9 o'clock coffee break. The telephone rang in the warehouse.

"Peacock! You have a call, mate. It's a Mr. Grace on the phone on the wall," called Jack.

Jack handed the receiver to Stephen, his fingers accidentally brushing Stephen's hand. Jack frowned, did a double-take, and walked away.

"Captain Peacock speaking."

"Peacock, this is Young Mr. Grace, how are you doing over there at Woodward and Lothrop?"

"I'm doing well, sir. Thank You."

"The purpose of my call, Peacock is to ask you: Now that you've taken a wife, how would you like your old job back? Rumbold is an idiot. He knows nothing about being a floorwalker and even less about men's clothing! I'll give you a rise if you come back," he bargained.

Stephen contemplated the idea for a moment.

"Sir, this wouldn't have anything to do with my playing football for Woodward and Lothrop, would it?"

"No, Peacock. I just thought maybe you've gotten tired of pushing a broom in the bowels of a store. Do you like working there?" He almost sounded sincerely concerned.

"Yes, sir. I leave for work before my wife is up; I come home after she's home from work. She has tea waiting for me and dinner is being prepared. She's actually happy to see me, sir. If we worked together, it'd be like when I worked at Grace Brothers: we'd bicker and fight and that would carry over to our home life," Stephen explained.

"Well, Peacock, it sounds like she's got you!" he chuckled.

"Yes, sir, she does. And I couldn't be happier," Stephen said proudly.

"Well, good day, Peacock. It sounds like you're doing very well."

"Thank you, sir. Good day." He hung the receiver back on its wall cradle.

After Stephen hung up, Jack walked back over, "Ere! What was all that about?"

"I used to work for him at Grace Brothers. I think he was trying to lure me back over so's I could play on their football team!" he speculated.

"What'd'ju tell him?"

"I've got it pretty good here. I told him 'no'"

"You're a bloomin' idiot! You would give up the opportunity to go back to your floor-walker position, wear a spiffy suit and tie, eat in the executive dining room, and tell people what to do all day? You prefer to push a broom, unclog toilets, collect rubbish, mop floors, fix broken things, get treated like dirt? What is wrong with you, man?

"It's for_ whom _I gave up that position ," he stated, "If I went back there, my ex-wife is entitled to half of my salary. With a pay rise, she would also get an increase. Working here, she can only take half of my flat wage; she can't touch the overtime pay and bonuses I get. I'd shovel manure before I give her any more than what she's getting now." He sucked his cheeks in; his face screwed up into a scowl.

"Point taken. By the way, what's with your hands?" he questioned suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" Stephen asked.

"When I handed you the phone, I quite accidentally touched your hand. They're soft as a baby's bottom."

"That's my wife's work."

"Is she trying to turn you into a poof?" Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Stephen strangely.

Quizzically Stephen looked at him, "I don't think so. She just insists that if I'm going to put my hands all over her, that they are to be clean and smooth. She doesn't like when my finger nails and calluses snag her tights and stockings."

"So what does she do to your hands to get them like that?"

"She has a salve she prepares from herbs from the garden. She buffs my fingernails and gets the rough edges smooth. Sometimes, if my hands are very chapped, she slathers on a heavy layer of salve and has me wear cotton gloves to bed. She also massages my hands…" he got all dreamy-eyed talking about his Betty.

"Newlyweds!" Jack scoffed and walked off.


	15. Laundry Date Night

**Fast Forward 6 Months **

**Laundry Date Night**

"What would you like to eat, Dear?" asked Stephen as he loaded his and Betty's laundry bags into the boot of his raggedy Ford.

"Oh, I don't know. What did we eat last week? I don't much care for that Tandoori take-away we had that one time."

"No, you're right. That didn't quite sit well with me at all!"

He stepped around the vehicle, opened the door, and held it open for her. Betty slid into her seat. He lingered, staring at her legs for a moment, smiling, before closing the door and walking around to his side of the car.

He started the engine and a great plume of blue smoke coughed out. They were on their way. Date night. The car stopped in the car park of the Dirty Duds Launderette. Stephen got out, walked around to Betty's door, and held it open for her. He walked round back of the car, opened the boot, and removed their bags.

Betty secured a large washing machine and began loading their clothes into it.

She sprayed stain remover on his work smock, the collars of his works shirts and trousers and stuffed them into the machine.

"Hey, it looks as though they've opened an Italian restaurant and take-away across the street. You want maybe we should try it out?" he asked.

"Go and get a menu, we'll have a butcher's while our clothes wash."

"Good idea."

* * *

><p>He came back with a tin, two forks and two coffees.<p>

"I thought you were going for a menu? What did you get for us to eat?" she questioned.

"I bought stuffed baked shells. They let me try a bit and they tasted good, so I made a boardroom decision!" he chuckled.

"What are they?"

"Pasta shells with cheese in them and tomato sauce. There's enough for both of us."

He set the tin on the clothes-folding table and opened it.

Betty joined him, "Mmmm. That smells good!" The aroma of garlic and oregano filled the area.

He cut a shell in half with the edge of the fork, speared it and held it for Betty to taste, "Try this; it's wonderful."

She took the morsel, "Mmmm, that _is_ wonderful."

Outside thunder rolled. Rain began to pelt down.

"You going to be alright, Dear?" Stephen asked.

"I think so," she nodded and took another bite of the pasta.

A brilliant flash pulsed and all at once, the launderette was plunged into darkness. The only light was the passing cars' headlamps. Lightning spider-webbed across the sky. Stephen held Betty's hand and led her to the plastic chairs lining the wall. She carried their dinner and they sat down. He slid his arm around her and leaned over to kiss her neck.

They held hands and watched the dazzling display of lightning flashes and thunderbolts.

"It reminds me of fireworks," he whispered.

"Stephen?"

"Hmmm?"

"I have a confession to make," she said meekly.

She had his full attention.

"Oh? What's that, Dear?" his voice was serious as his gaze pierced the darkness.

"You were my first."

"First? First what?" he inquired, his curiosity was piqued.

"_First,_" she emphasized, eyebrows raised for effect.

"F-First!" he sputtered, snickering, "How? You were married before!"

"We never consummated it. I was 'unavailable' on our wedding night and during our honeymoon. When we got home, I went back to work as a nippy at Lyons' and Cecil immediately took up with the neighbor's wife. I was young and naïve; I was 19, what did I know? Seven years later he ran off with her."

"I thought he was taken by the 'fraud police'?"

"I tell people that because the truth is humiliating."

"You never did it, not even _once_ in seven years?" he asked incredulously; he could hardly believe his ears.

"No," she shook her head, "He never initiated and well, I was…_inexperienced._" She was a little embarrassed admitting this.

"But what about that first night I slept over? You gave yourself to me so easily."

She smiled guiltily, "I didn't think I'd ever get another chance; I was never in a position to have it off."

"What about all those times you and Mrs. Axelby went to the pub?"

"One doesn't give _that_ to some random duffer one meets in a pub! Really, Stephen!"

He chuckled a little, "I had to find the only 46-year-old virgin, not in a convent! Will wonders never cease!"

"If I knew you were going to take the mickey on me, I wouldn't have told you!" she sulked.

"I'm sorry, Darling; it just seems incredible, that's all. It does explain a few things, though!" he mused and kissed her cheek.

* * *

><p>They finished eating in the dark, and after a bit, the lights came back on. They drank their coffees as the machines started with a whirr.<p>

"I was wondering," he started.

"Don't wander too far, you could get lost!" she interrupted. He smiled.

"Any road. Since we both work, I was pondering the idea that maybe we should go detached. We could more than afford it," he stated matter-of-factly.

"True. But I do like our location. We live walking distance to the bus stop, walking distance to the pub. We're not far from the launderette and market. We do have rather nice neighbors," she pointed out.

"Well, if we were detached, we wouldn't have our neighbor Mr. Akbar pounding on our bedroom wall.." he raised his eyebrows.

"We _do_ get rather loud at times!" she exclaimed.

"That's _why_ you get married, so you can make noise! If I wanted to be silent, I would have continued dillitanting in a broom cupboard!"

"If we stay where we are, we can afford nice holidays. I would rather have a holiday in Majorca or Greece or the Carribeano than a detached house."

"So, I take it the answer is 'no'?" he felt a little dejected.

"I would like an allotment. Maybe we could apply for one. We could have a nice English garden! And a garden shed..." she winked at him; he perked up at the idea.

* * *

><p>Stephen arrived at the warehouse of Woodward &amp; Lothrop carrying a cardboard box as he walked in through the door.<p>

"What have you got in the box there, Stephen?" queried Colin, "Did your cat have another litter of kittens?"

"No. I've brought breakfast for you lot! I stopped at Frank's Caf' for some bacon butties and coffees," he announced.

"What's the occasion? You hit the lottery or something?" asked Jack, teasing.

"If I knew you lot were going to take the mickey, I wouldn't have even bothered!" Stephen shot back, pouting.

Mel strode up after hearing the commotion. Paul and Richard soon joined him.

"What have we here?" Mel inquired, peeking into the box.

"Stephen's in a good mood, Mel! He bought us all breakfast!" Colin said, winking.

"Leave him be! He's in a good mood; we don't get to see that very often. Thank you, Stephen, for bringing breakkie! It's better than having to go up to the canteen." Jack chimed.

They all dug into the box and helped themselves to a sandwich and a coffee.

"OK, Stephen, what's got you in this chipper mood?" asked Paul, "Usually you eat breakfast at home. You get a little nookie last night? Or _maybe_ he got some before work!" They all chuckled.

Stephen wrinkled his nose and frowned, "A man can't just bring in some breakfast for his coworkers, his shout, without getting a bunch of bullocks!"

"Don't get tectchy on us, Stephen! We're just funnin'." Richard tried to smooth things out.

They all sat down around the warehouse and dug in. They ate in relative silence when Richard smiled devilishly.

"So…what's brought about this sudden benevolence? That must have been _some_ romp to make you spring for breakfast!" Richard joked. They erupted into another wave of laughter.

He was not about to tell them that Betty's confession last night at the launderette put him in a good mood. Their teasing wasn't going to dampen his spirits.

"Thank you, Stephen," Mel called over. Stephen nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, man, thanks for breakfast," Colin barked.

Paul, the infernal smart-alec couldn't resist, "Tell Betty 'thank you'!"

They shook their heads laughing. Stephen chuckled to himself and slapped his palm to his forehead.


	16. Deleted Scenes and Out Takes

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Untitled Deleted Scene**

"Is that what it looks like?" she asked.

"What did you expect?"

"I've never seen one up close; I guess I've never given it much thought. It looks…um…odd." She tried not to offend him.

"Would you prefer polka dots? Stripes? Bold checks?"

"How could something that looks like that feel so…_good?_" she crooned.

"That could be said for many things!"

She initiated and kissed his chest, down to his navel, sliding her hand along his side and resting it on his hip. She

began to handle him gently, then a little too aggressively. All at once, he yelped! Startled, she jumped back eyes

wide.

"Good God, woman! What're you doing?" He sat up, grimacing, shrieking, his voice almost cracking.

"I was pulling it back."

"Not _that_ far! And not like that- _gently!_" he cried; he fumbled at himself, wincing, eyes watering, "Oh, God! Ow…

ow..ow."

Her shoulders slumped and she pouted, "I'm sorry, Stephen, I didn't mean to hurt you; I didn't know." She was

on the verge of tears.

"I didn't mean to yell; you didn't know," he exhaled loudly, cheeks puffed out, "You didn't do any irreparable

damage. I just panicked a little. Come here."

He pulled her to him and held her in his arms, gently kissing her. He manipulated himself, "See? This is how far

back it goes…"

"It's just peeping out a bit!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. It just peeps out a bit," exhaling, he tried to chuckle.

"During…you know…doesn't it slide back over?" she asked bashfully.

"Sometimes, but that adds to the sensation," he smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"_Oh!_" she cooed.

He recovered and lay back, "Where did you get the idea to…take charge?"

"One reads magazines," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"We shall have to buy a subscription to said magazine! Carry on."

"Oh! It's shrunk down..."

"Well, after _that_ incident, it's no wonder. You may have to give it a little kiss…like Sleeping Beauty!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of the Little Frog Prince!" she tee-hee'd, grinning.

"Hey! Watch it with the word 'little'. He's very sensitive!" he warned in his Royal Signals voice.

She returned her attention to his chest. She took one of his nipples in her mouth and rolled the other between

her thumb and forefinger. He raised his head to watch her. He let out a long, deep guttural moan. She continued.

He breathed hard; toes curled, and put his hands on her shoulders. She moved to the other nipple and flicked it

with her tongue; he writhed in ecstasy, moaning louder, trembling slightly. He threw his head back and she

quickly moved to his neck, kissing him passionately. He slapped his hands down on the bed, his fingers curling

around the bed linen, digging his heels in. He grabbed her around the shoulders, wrestled her onto her back,

and mounted her.

Self-satisfied she looked up at him and smiled. His eyes were blazing, his nostrils flared; his jaw was squared,

his breathing came in deep puffs.

"OOoohh," she trilled, "I didn't know it was going to have _that_ effect on you!." She enjoyed his loss of control,

"You're like one big erroneous zone!"

"_Erogenous_ zone!" he exhaled, correcting her.

"Have you always been like this?"

"I didn't know I was! No one has ever done those things to me before," he humbly admitted.

"It's nice to know there are some things that haven't been discovered yet!"

"More tricks from your magazine?"

She nodded, "Now, if you don't mind, _I_ was in control here! I don't appreciate being flung flat on me back when I

was in the middle of something!"

"What were you planning?"

"I've got a tin of Altoids," she tantalized, gently licking her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Tea For Two, Minus One<strong>

Stephen stumbled in the front door, almost 7.

"Is that my sexy husband coming home?" Betty playfully called from the kitchen.

"It's me; I don't know about the sexy part! Where's my beautiful wife? Usually she's here by the door when I come in," he flirted.

Betty entered the lounge and hugged him round the waist, resting her hands on his buttocks, "I like your bum. It's nice and firm!" and she gave him a little

squeeze, "How was your day?"

"Busy. I don't remember a Wednesday ever being this busy. The lorry we were supposed to have on Monday was delayed; it came today, so we had

Monday's delivery and today's as well. It all had to be sorted and put on pallets for each department," He kissed her softly, "Ooh, I am tired. I'm going

to have a sit-down on the couch," he yawned.

"Would you like a cuppa? I made a fresh pot."

"Mmm, yes," he nuzzled her neck; she giggled and hugged him, "How was _your_ day?" he asked.

"Alright. So far I've made about 25 pounds in commission this week."

"Well done!" he exclaimed, "That's why I married you! So you could support _me_."

"You set here and I'll bring your tea to you," she turned her face to his and he gently kissed her. He removed his shoes, placed them in the shoe cabinet,

took out his house shoes and slipped them on. He held her hand as he walked to the couch and sat down.

Betty returned within a few minutes with two cups of tea on saucers and a few biscuits. He sat there motionless, head slumped, chin resting on his chest,

eyes closed, and soughing. She set the cups down on the coffee table and watched him. He was so peaceful. She leaned over and kissed the top of his

head. He stirred a little, his eyes fluttered and he smiled slightly in his sleep. He opened his eyes, struggling to keep them open and focused on her.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he mumbled, "I'm really tired."

She sat down next to him and snuggled him, "Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, I'd like to go up to bed now, please."

She stood up and offered her hand to him to help him pull himself up. She climbed the stairs with him and they

entered the bedroom. He sat down heavily on the bed.

"You need help?" she asked him.

"I think I can manage." He kicked off his slippers and began unbuttoning his braces. He couldn't maneuver his

trousers while sitting down. She knelt in front of him and unzipped them.

"Lift up a little so I can slide these off." He obliged and she pulled his trousers down and took them off him. She lightly ran her hands up the sides of

his thighs and kissed them. He smiled at her. She stood up, folded his trousers over her arm, and draped them on the back of the chair of her vanity.

"I thought I was going to get lucky!" he sighed.

"All right, You!" She unbuttoned his jacket, "Slip your arms out of this."

She hung his jacket on a hanger in the clothes cupboard. He clumsily removed his waistcoat, unbuttoned his

shirt, and handed them to her. She sniffed the shirt and dropped it in the laundry basket, "Mmm, you always

smell so nice," she said lovingly.

Going over to the chest of drawers, she retrieved a vest and handed it to him, "Do you want pyjamas?"

"No. I'll be alright in this." He reached his arms out to her and she stepped into his embrace. He rested his cheek

on her belly. He sleepily kissed her and leaned back, pulling her with him. Losing her balance, she fell on top of

him, straddling him.

"OK, Loverboy! Don't be startin' anything you can't finish!" she teased.

"If I start it, will _you _finish?" he laughed groggily, punch-drunk.

"Some other time! Come on; let's get you to bed. In you go."

"You come to bed with me. Come on, just a quickie. Ten minutes at the most. I just want you. Come on," he purred, looking at her from below his brows.

"I thought you were tired!" she laughed.

"_He's _not!"

"Was this just a plot to get me into bed?" she scolded.

"I am tired, but something has come up!" he started giggling.

"You're a mess! Good night, Stephen!" she chuckled and snapped off the lamp.

* * *

><p><strong>Untitled Scene 2<strong>

Stephen boarded the bus in front of Woodward & Lothrop. It had been a long day and upon settling into his seat, he leaned against the window and shut

his eyes. The bus hummed along, its engine droning. Within a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

A few stops later, Betty climbed on in front of Grace Brothers. She dropped her fare in the till and looked for Stephen.

"He's back there," Charlie motioned, smiling.

"Thank you," she said as she made her way toward Stephen's seat.

She slid in next to him, handbag on her lap, as the bus lurched forward and rolled on; he slumped slightly in his seat. She leaned over and pecked him on the

cheek. Startled, he flinched, his breath hitched, eyes popping awake.

"Huh?" he snapped his head round to look at Betty, "Well, hello, hello! Late night?"

"You know, one of his stupid meetings. How was your day?"

"Tiring. I don't think I sat down for five minutes. I think I even ate lunch standing up! How was your day, Dear?" he muttered.

"It was good, aside from the boring meeting about absolutely nothing. It's good to ride home on the bus with you, though, so that makes it worthwhile!"

He pursed his lips and she leaned in to give him a proper kiss. He slipped his arm around her shoulder as she settled in against him, holding his hand.

"It's like being in school!" she whispered.

"MMmm-hmm," he murmured as he smiled and relaxed.

"What do you fancy for dinner? We could pick something up on the way home."

He did not answer.

"Stephen?" she called quietly.

She felt his body go limp as he drifted off. She smiled and laughed to herself, patted his chest, and laid her head against him.


	17. Christmas Coat

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Christmas Coat**

The maintenance personnel had wheeled in several clothing racks for the upcoming Christmas sale.

Before the opening bell rang, Mr. Humphries minced over to the Ladies' counter, "Mrs. Peacock, a lovely selection of men's coats has come in for the sale. Were you not looking for a new coat for Captain Peacock? Perhaps you'd like to take a butcher's at them."

"Oh, yes! Captain Peacock could do with a new coat. Thank You, Mr. Humphries."

She walked across to the rack of coats parked in the Gents' Department.

"Mrs. Peacock, will you return to your counter?" grumbled Mr. Grainger.

"As the bell has not rung yet, Mr. Grainger, I am free to walk about the department. I'll have you know I intend to buy one of these coats, so belt up!"

She flipped through the assortment of long coats and macs assembled on the roll-away rack. She found a camel-colored cashmere coat, knee-length with a hood. It had elk horn buttons and a matching wool lining.

"Oooh, Stephen would look smashing in one of those!" she exclaimed, "Mr. Humphries, are you free to help me size a coat for Captain Peacock?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Peacock, I'm free! Do you know his size?"

"Well, he wears a 15 ½ inch collar. When I hug him, my hands go up to here on my arms!" She made a circle with her arms, grasping her hands on her forearms. Then she stretched her arms out. Mr. Humphries had taken a mental note of where her hands had set.

He took his tape measure from round his neck, placed the metal tip where her right hand rested on one arm, stretched the tape across her chest and brought the end to where her left hand had rested on the other arm.

"Thirty-six long," he announced.

Mr. Grainger, Mr. Lucas, and Betty all clapped, "Well done, Mr. Humphries!" they all said in unison.

He located a size 36 long on the rack and handed it to Betty. She slipped the coat on and although she could not button it fully closed, she knew it would be warm and it was well made.

"You look like Father Christmas in that coat, Mrs. Peacock!" Mr. Lucas teased. She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring.

"Sale, Mr. Humphries!"

Mr. Humphries took out a sheet of scrap paper and his sales book and began to calculate, "One hundred eighty pounds minus 15% staff discount of 27 pounds equals one hundred fifty-three pounds. One hundred fifty-three pounds, minus the sale premium of 5% or seven pounds 65 pence, equals one hundred forty-five pounds, 35 pence. One hundred forty five pounds 35 pence, minus VAT of 10% of one hundred eighty pounds, or 18 pounds, gives you a grand total of one hundred twenty three pounds 35 pence."

"Put it on my staff account, Mr. Humphries, thank you."

"Yes, Mrs. Peacock," he scrawled her purchase description and total on the yellow staff account pad,"Sign here," he instructed and pointed to the line.

He put the coat back on its hanger, buttoned it, slipped a large shopping bag over it, and poked the hook part of the hanger through a hole he made in the bag. He stapled the receipt to the bag and handed the parcel to Betty.

Betty tottered off to the Ladies' cloakroom to secure her custom, just as the starting bell rang.

After lunch, the phone rang on the sales floor. Miss Brahms picked it up. It was Stephen.

"Hello, Captain Peacock! How're you keepin'? You want to speak to Mrs. Peacock? She's just gettin' back from lunch; hold on, I'll get her."

"Thank you, Miss Brahms," he replied.

Miss Brahms handed the receiver to Betty, "It's for you; it's your 'usband!"

"Thank you, Miss Brahms," Betty removed one earring and put the phone to her ear, "Hello? Stephen?"

"Hello, Dear. I'm working a double shift this evening to get ready for inventory. My dinner break is from 6 to 7, would you like to meet me somewhere?"

"I could probably go for a Wimpy Cheeseburger," she suggested.

He replied, "Sounds good. It's a date, then."

"I have to go, Rumbold is looking," she grumbled.

"OK, Love. I'll see you at about half-six. Good-bye."

"Good bye," she purred, making a kissing sound before she hung up.

* * *

><p>Stephen arrived home from work at about 2345 having caught the last bus of the evening. The house was dark and silent. Betty was already in bed asleep, though she slept fitfully; she woke when she heard him come through the front door. She could hear him opening and closing the shoe cabinet, depositing his shoes in exchange for his slippers.<p>

He entered the kitchen to set up the percolator for the morning. He opened the top of the coffee pot and discovering Betty had already set it up, closed the lid with a gentle ting, and smiled at her thoughtfulness.

He quietly padded up the stairs to the bathroom, took a towel from the linen cupboard, and threaded it onto the towel warmer hanging on the wall.

Freshly showered and dressed in his silk pajamas, he slid into bed next to Betty. She backed up into him, "Good evening, Sweetheart."

He kissed the back of her neck, "Oooh, you're all nice and warm," he murmured as he snuggled her, "Thank you for setting up the coffee for me." He kissed her again.

He loved how her body fit the contours of his perfectly. He put his hand on her thigh, then slid his hand up to rest on her belly. The room was swathed in pale moonlight. He slowly inhaled and reveled in her scent, soughing,"Mmmm, you smell _so good_."

"That's _my_ line!" she giggled. She reached up and touched his face, "You're prickly!"

"I didn't see a point in shaving, seeing's how I've got to get up in about 4 hours." They nestled together and he rubbed his rough chin against her cheek, "I missed you. It's good to be home; I am knackered. I started nodding off on the bus and the conductor had to wake me when we got to my stop!"

"I'm glad you're home; it's lonely when you're not here," she slurred sleepily.

"Where's Tiddles? Usually she keeps you company."

"She's shacked up out back with Neville in his cat house."

He tittered lightly.

"Good night, Darling," he kissed her cheek and they drifted off to sleep.


	18. Taste Test

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Taste Test**

"I was thinking after we go do laundry we could go out to the Palais. We haven't been out dancing in a long time. It'll be nice to get dressed up and go out," Stephen suggested as he ate his Lo Mein out of the box.

Betty smiled, "Yes. I would like that." She stabbed at her Kung Pao Chicken.

The launderette was warm and noisy; they were lucky to get a machine. They finished their dinner as their clothes spun dry.

* * *

><p>Betty and Stephen dressed for the evening. He wore a dark navy blue suit, waistcoat, and a starched white shirt and blue Regimental tie. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushed a coat of polish on his shoes, and then buffed them to a high gloss.<p>

Betty wore a calf-length burgundy-colored dress with a sweeping neckline, a pair of matching pumps, which made her about three inches taller, and threaded glittering diamond drop earrings into her lobes. Her lips were a tastefully refined wine color and her make-up was soft and muted, revealing her natural beauty. She had a deep plum-colored rinse in her softly-styled hair. Betty stepped out of the bathroom and he stood up. He gave her a head-to-toe, licked his lips lightly, smiled, and raised his eyebrows, "You look wonderful, Dear," he gushed.

Betty strutted over to where he was standing, tilted her head toward him, and he gently brushed her cheek with his lips.

They descended the staircase downstairs and Stephen retrieved their coats from the entryway cupboard. He held her coat open and she slipped her arms in. Opening the front door for her, they stepped outside into the crisp night.

* * *

><p>"What would you like to drink, Dear?" he bellowed over the loud music.<p>

"Just a gin and tonic, thank you!" She watched as he disappeared into the flock of party-goers.

It was loud and hot and smoky in the dance hall. Betty sat at one of the small tables which lined the walls of the Palais de Danse. A DJ played popular songs and people mobbed the dance floor. A candle in a jar adorned the table. Colored lights flashed and swirled around the large room. Betty could feel the bass thumping in her chest.

He wove his way around the throng to the bar. He called his order to the barkeep and waited.

She poised herself next to him, every bit as tall as he and at least twenty years younger. Long straight auburn hair, green eyes, deep cut black dress, voluptuous ample bosom, flawless skin. Skirt slit to mid-thigh, black stilettos, tantalizing perfume. She was gorgeous and she was looking _right at_ _him_!

She pursed her lips, "Hello, handsome," she enticed, "how's about you drop that old bag and come home with me instead?"

His eyebrows shot up. What does one do when the person insulting one's wife is another woman? He tried to act as if he was not attracted to her. A year and a half ago, it would not have even been a question. He scratched his chin and smiled nervously. He said nothing, resisting the urge to look at her cleavage and the rest of her. She licked her lips alluringly. She leaned in, as if she were going to kiss him; his breath caught in his throat. She slipped a bit of paper into Stephen's hand, winked, turned, and sauntered away: _"Carmen- 96541"_

The barkeep returned with the drinks and Stephen paid him. He exhaled, relieved. He left the slip of paper on the bar and returned to the table with his and Betty's drinks.

The DJ played a slow ballad; Stephen leaned over, intoning over the music,"Would you like to dance?"

She stood up and he led her to the dance floor. They danced expertly, light on their feet; he spun her round.

"I saw her at the bar chatting you up," Betty spoke loudly.

He sullenly looked down, ashamed.

Betty touched his cheek, smiled, and maneuvered herself so she was looking up into his eyes, "I'm proud of you. A year and a half, 2 years ago, you wouldn't have given it a second thought; you would have gone off for a canoodle."

She knew him all too well. He smiled and kissed her behind her ear, "I love you, Betty," he whispered.

He straightened up and held her tightly, dancing her round the floor.


	19. Puttin' On The Ritz

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

** Puttin' On The Ritz**

"Peacock!" called Mel from across the warehouse.

"Sir?" Stephen answered as he strode up to him.

"Isn't your wife's birthday coming up soon? I did hear you talking about that over lunch the other day, right?"

"Yes, sir. In about a week and a half," Stephen stated.

"Well, there's a coat that's been returned damaged. It's quite dear, but the firm will let it go to an employee for a song," Mel explained, "I've offered it to the

others since they've been here longer, but they either couldn't afford it or were not interested in it. So now I'm offering it to you."

"Why would I buy my wife a damaged coat for her birthday, sir?" Stephen felt a little put out. He tried to hide his hurt ego

"Because it's a 3000-quid Giuliana Teso Silver Fox Swing Coat."

Stephen's ears perked up, "I see. How 'damaged' are we talking?" The wheels started turning in Stephen's head.

"The lining is torn and it needs a button. For the cost of a good repair and dry-cleaning, the coat will be good as new, and it will still be a 3000-quid coat."

Mel winked at Stephen deviously and led him to the rack where the coat hung. It was exquisite: ¾ length, it featured a shawl collar and spiral sleeves. It had

two exterior pockets and a silk lining in solid. It closed with furrier's locking clips.

"Betty would love that!" Stephen cried.

Mel took out a yellow pad and began to scribble some figures and muttering to himself,"3000 pounds minus 40% for damages equals 1700. Seventeen

hundred with your employee discount of 15% off 3000, is 450, equals 1250. Another 10% for 'shop dirty' is 125, equals 1125 and on sale at 20% is 225,

equals 900, minus VAT of 10%, the total comes to 810 pounds."

"It's all on the up and up?" asked Stephen. He did not know how it worked in the warehouse and wanted to be sure that it was legal. It'd be embarrassing

to give Betty a coat and be taken away by the fraud police.

"Yes, Stephen. As the shop steward, I can give certain discounts. Didn't you authorize such discounts when you were at Grace Brothers?"

"Yes. I guess I never heard the sale clerks do a line-by-line discount. I checked over their figures and signed the chits. We never had clothes returned as

damaged and then sold. Usually damaged items were sent to the warehouse."

"Well, that's where this coat ended up!"

"Whew! That's a lot of overtime!" Stephen interjected. He knew it would be worth it. Betty worked hard at her job; she deserved a bit of luxury.

"You _could_ put it on your staff account."

"True. I'll take it!" _

**Taking the coat to the Tailor's**

During Stephen's lunch hour, he took Betty's coat to Burnham's Tailor Shop as recommended by the head of the Ladies' Department, Mrs. Eastham. She was

a handsome woman, grayish hair worn short, about 50 years old. She was slender, had a long nose, and wore gem-framed glasses on a chain. She had a

dainty chin with a cleft. Her steely eyes looked right through Stephen, which made him uneasy.

"_They do wonderful work, Captain Peacock. And I'm not just saying this because my brother-in-law owns it! Now, you need to be off the sales floor during opening _

_hours," Mrs. Eastham scolded._

"_Yes. Ma'am," he acquiesced._

Now he knew how Mr. Harman felt.

He entered the shop, the little bell over the door jingling.

"Are you being served, sir?" asked the assistant tailor, Mr. James.

"Mrs. Eastham from Woodward and Lothrop sent me. I need this coat to be repaired; the lining is torn and a button is off," Stephen explained, "The coat

could also do with a good cleaning and going-over."

"Certainly, sir."

The gentleman's hands were perfect. He deftly handled the coat, turning the sleeves and putting his own arms into them. He assessed the damages and

assured Stephen that the coat could be restored to brand-new condition.

"When do you need the coat, sir?"

"My wife's birthday is in 9 days."

"Well, that's a bit short-notice, but we can have it ready by Tuesday next, since Mrs. Eastham _did_ recommend us," Mr. James stated confidently.

"Very good. About how much will it cost?"

"Since it is a rush order, there's a 10% fee. It shouldn't be more than 10 pounds."

"That's fine," said Stephen with a nod.

Mr. James filled out the work order and gave Stephen a ticket with the order number stamped on it.

Stephen picked up the coat, as promised, on Tuesday during his lunch break. It was repaired, cleaned, and looked beautiful. He took the coat to the

customer service counter in the Ladies' to have it gift-wrapped. He worked a double shift to allow himself ample time to hide the parcel, a rather large and

cumbersome box, wrapped in flowery paper.

Wednesday: Betty's birthday.

Stephen stepped off the bus and strode over to the newspaper and flower stand. The salesgirl, Naomi, smiled sweetly at him. She was 16, slim, with bright

hazel colored eyes and light brown hair. She wore a cobbler's apron and a blue hair ribbon, which set, off her eyes.

"Good evening, Captain Peacock!" she bubbled. Over the past year and a half, they became friends. He saw her every morning as he bought a newspaper

for his bus ride to work. During the past year, he made a nightly stop at the newsstand to buy flowers for his Betty.

"Good evening, Naomi," he greeted, "Today is Mrs. Peacock's birthday, do you have any red roses?"

"I do! Would you like a dozen?"

"Two dozen," he smiled.

She gently pulled a length of brown kraft paper to wrap them in. She removed the roses from the from the water cans, allowed the excess water to drip from

them, and set them on the counter. She rolled the flowers in the paper and secured them with a piece of sellotape.

"How much?" he asked as she handed him the parcel.

"Three pounds, fifty."

He handed her a five note, "Keep the change!"

"Thank you, Captain Peacock! Tell Mrs. Peacock 'Happy Birthday' from me."

"I will. Good evening, Naomi."

"Good evening, sir."

He began his trek to the house, cradling the flowers. He leaned in and inhaled deeply. The roses smelled rich and he hurried along.

**Arriving Home**

He closed the door gently. Betty greeted him.

"Happy Birthday, Darling!" he chirped and handed her the bundle of roses, deep red, which matched her hair.

"Ooooohh, they're lovely!" she gushed, burying her face in them.

He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, "Happy birthday. Where would like to go for dinner?"

"I think I fancy Greek food tonight. Could we go out for Greek food?"

"Anything you like; it's your birthday. I'm going up for a shower and a shave. Change into something pretty," he flirted.

Betty finished dressing and waited in the lounge. Stephen descended the staircase, carrying the large, weighty box, wrapped in fancy paper. He sat down

beside Betty with the box perched on his lap. He grinned broadly at her and slid the box over, "Happy Birthday, Betty."

She tore the paper daintily and set it aside. She lifted the lid and peeled open the tissue paper. She drew her breath in sharply, her eyes popped wide.

"Oh! Oh!" she wailed, her eyes filling with tears. He sat up proudly.

"Darling, don't cry. You'll mess up your make-up! Come here. There, there," he soothed, "would you like to try it on?"

She nodded through her tears. She stood up and he held the coat open for her to put her arms in. She gasped as she wrapped her arms around herself, her

eyes danced.

He enjoyed this. She spun round and the coat swung fluidly. She jumped at him, throwing her arms around him. He bent forward and she showered his face

with kisses.

"Thank you, Stephen! I love you!" she squealed.

"Do you like the coat?"

"Yes! I do!" She nuzzled his chest and squeezed him tightly.

"Then shall we be off to dinner?"

* * *

><p>The alarm clock jangled, rousing Stephen. He leaned over to tap it before it could wake Betty. She leapt up, lurched toward him, and wrapped her arms<p>

around his neck. She slid on top of him, straddling him. His breath quickened. She kissed him and he moaned slightly, eyes half open. He ran his hands over

her breasts.

"Oh, Betty! Is this a continuation of last night?" he panted.

"_In your dreams_, _Stephen_!" she snapped as the alarm bell rang, this time for real.

His eyes fluttered open and he looked around the room. It was silent and dark. He looked at Betty, who was sound asleep. Her deep red hair was mussed

and she slept peacefully curled next to him; she didn't even stir as he moved. He let out a long dejected sigh.


	20. A Call From Mr Woodward

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**A Call From Mr. Woodward**

The wall phone in the warehouse rang.

"Yes, sir! I will tell him right away. Yes, sir. Good-bye." Mel was almost standing at attention while on the phone. He set the receiver on its hook and looked around for Stephen.

Stephen was lining a dustbin with a plastic bag; finishing up his rounds of collecting rubbish. It was almost time for his coffee break.

"Peacock! I need to have a word with you ASAP!" Mel yelled across the warehouse.

"Yes, sir?"

"Mr. Woodward rang down here. He wants to see you in his office right away!"

Stephen could feel his stomach tense up. He _thought_ he was doing a good job in Packing and Maintenance.

"Do I have enough time to clean up a bit?" he asked.

"Yes, but get on with it."

Stephen rushed over to his locker. He opened it and took out a brush with which to brush off his work smock. He then took out a can of black polish and a shoe brush. He snapped open the lid and ran the brush through the black cake. He set his foot up on the bench and brush-shined his shoe. Then he did the same with the other shoe. He set the polish and brushes back in his locker. He took out a comb and dragged it through his hair.

"Hurry up, Cinderella! You haven't got all day!" Mel teased.

"What's Mr. Woodward want with him?" asked Colin.

"I dunno. I hope he's not getting the sack. I kinda like his old grouchy ass!" Mel chuckled.

"He does rather grow on you once you get to know him. And he does play a good game of football," Colin agreed.

"True."

Stephen strode over to where they were gossiping, "How do I look?"

"You look lovely! Now don't keep your date waiting!" They both chuckled at him.

Stephen marched to the service lift and pressed for the 5th floor. The bell dinged and he disappeared into the open lift. Inside he fidgeted, checking his look in the reflection of the stainless steel walls. His palms began to get clammy and the lift ascended.

The bell dinged and the doors opened. He was on the executive floor: personnel, accounts, security. The halls were decorated in dark paneling, dark gold carpeting; a large portrait of the late Mr. Lothrop hung in a gilded frame; small sconces with flickering gas flames lined the walls. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

He stopped at the receptionist's desk, "I'm Captain Peacock. Mr. Woodward rang for me to see him," Stephen introduced himself.

"Yes," she said curtly, "take a seat. I will let him know you're here."

She couldn't have been more than about 20. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, a young schoolgirl face, narrow shoulders, and blue eyes.

The phone buzzed. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear, "Yes, sir? Yes, he's here. Right. I'll send him in. Out," she hung up the phone and turned her attention to Stephen, "Mr. Woodward will see you now."

She stood up and opened the door for Stephen. Stephen smoothed his smock and trousers and confidently entered the office. The office had bright white walls. An aerial picture of London hung over Mr. Woodward's desk. His desk was massive, piled with manuals, papers, and samples from sellers. There was a wide floor-to-ceiling window adorned with sheer curtains; it allowed a view of High Street and let the sunlight in. On the desk squatted a banker's lamp, seated next to it was an executive pen set.

Mr. Woodward was a large, imposing man. He had broad shoulders and a prominent chin. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and a dark charcoal-colored suit. His hair was salt and pepper, parted on the side. He extended his hand to Stephen.

Stephen grasped it firmly.

"Stephen Peacock, right?" Mr. Woodward started.

"Yes, sir."

"Have a seat, Peacock."

Stephen sat down in a burgundy leather wing chair

"Well, Peacock, I'll cut to the chase. The reason I called you in is that I've been talking to Mr. Grace from Grace Brothers. He said he rang a few weeks ago to offer you your old job back and you told him that you have it good here. He said you turned him down flat, despite his offer of a pay rise. Is that correct?"

Stephen could feel his face grow hot, "Yes, sir."

"Well, Peacock, loyalty like that does not go unnoticed here at Woodward and Lothrop. Do you like your job down in Packing and Maintenance?" he inquired.

"I'm grateful for my job, sir," he answered, trying not to sound nervous.

"But, do you _like_ pushing a broom, scrubbing toilets, pulling rubbish, changing light bulbs, greasing the lift tracks, unloading lorries in the rain? Is that how you saw yourself at 50-something? You can be honest," he pressed.

Stephen was on guard. He didn't know what Mr. Woodward was getting at and feared that if he said he did not like his job, he might be on the chopping block; he was afraid they were letting someone go and since he was the least senior, it might be him.

"Yes, sir. I like my job. I like coming home and my wife is happy to see me and has my tea waiting," he explained.

"Mr. Grace said you would say that!" he chuckled, "OK, here goes. The floorwalker in the Menswear Department died unexpectedly last night…"

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Stephen interjected humbly.

"He was a good man; been here 35 years. He will be missed. I need a floorwalker. You have the experience. You know men's clothing. You have the customer relations thing down. You look good in a suit. You come with accolades from Mr. Grace. The man loves you. If you want the job- it's yours." Mr. Woodward smiled broadly.

Stephen's heart leapt. Floorwalker? Basically his old job back!

Mr. Woodward searched Stephen's face, "Do you need time to think it over?" he asked almost teasing.

It wasn't funny to Stephen. As much as working in Packing and Maintenance was a demotion, he grew fond of his co-workers and felt they had a mutual respect for each other. The camaraderie they had developed playing football was incalculable.

Part of him wanted to dance; another part of him began to feel the loss of his friends.

"I'll take the job, sir," he declared.

"Good. That settles it. You start tomorrow morning, 8:30. Menswear is shut for the day," Mr. Woodward affirmed.

"May I please have the rest of the day off to get things in order?"

"Yes, you do that. Welcome to middle management, _Captain_ Peacock!" He offered his hand to Stephen and Stephen immediately shook it.

The ride down in the lift was bittersweet. He would be happy to be back in the Menswear Department, but he knew he would miss being a bit of a lad joking and carrying on with the guys in the warehouse and stockroom. His face screwed into a grimace as he fought between wanting to gloat and feeling a let down.

The lift bell dinged and the doors opened in the warehouse. He took a deep breath. They all stood waiting.

"Well, what'd he want?" beckoned Colin.

The crew gathered round him: Jack, Richard, Colin, Paul and Mel.

"You're not getting sacked are ya?" asked Richard.

"Let the man talk! G'head, Stephen!" urged Jack.

"I've been promoted. They're sending me up to Menswear!" Stephen fought to contain himself.

"To clean?" Paul joked, "Is their loo bound up?" They all laughed.

"No. Floorwalker," Stephen said.

Their faces fell. They shuffled about and stared at him.

"Good on ya, Stephen!" Jack cheered, "You don't belong down here! You with those baby's arse soft hands and your cuff links and fancy ties! You belong up there! But, don't forget us down here. Don't forget where ya came from!"

"I won't," he promised, "I've got to clean out my locker. Thank you...for everything."

He was somber. They all patted him on the back as he walked off. He left them and wended his way to the locker room.

* * *

><p>He arrived at Grace Brothers about an hour after his meeting with Mr. Woodward. He had changed into his suit and carried his smock and work togs in his sport bag.<p>

It was almost Betty's lunchtime. By now he was bubbling; he couldn't wait to tell Betty.

He entered Grace Brothers and stepped into a waiting lift.

"Second floor, please," he requested.

"Oh, hello, Captain Peacock!" greeted the lift girl, "What brings you down this end of town?"

"Hello, Julia. I'm going to have lunch with my wife," he smiled. She smiled back and pressed the floor button.

Ding! The lift doors opened and he stepped out. He stood surveying the department; it had been a long time since he took in this view from the top of the stairs. It was a slow day. Betty was arranging some wigs on the center display stand.

"Mrs. Peacock! You 'ave a customer!" called Miss Brahms, motioning toward Stephen.

Betty straightened up to see Stephen gliding down the stairs. His face lit up when he saw her. He advanced quickly, rushing up to her and wrapping his arms around her. He caught her off-guard and she pounded his back, acting as if a stranger was accosting her.

"Stephen! Have you gone mad?" she sputtered.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Dear," he apologized.

By now, Betty's coworkers were all staring.

Mr. Lucas and Mr. Humphries looked on to see what was going to happen.

"I hope he doesn't make a scene. I can't go through that again!" warned Mr. Lucas.

"No. I don't think it's that. Look at him, he looks positively giddy!" Mr. Humphries related.

"I got a promotion at work!" he blurted.

"Yeah? What did they promote you to?" She dared not make a joke, not in front of everyone. Even though Stephen was too proud to show it, he was very self-conscious about working in Packing and Maintenance.

He whispered in her ear, "Floorwalker." He could barely breathe; he held her tightly.

"Well done, Sweetheart! I am very happy for you. I've always been proud of you," she playfully mussed his hair.

He kissed her, "Let's get lunch!"

The End


	21. Dinner Disclosure

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Dinner Disclosure**

It had been two weeks since Stephen took over the floorwalker's position at Woodward and Lothrop.

Betty and Stephen were sitting down to dinner. The candles flickered and the silverware sparkled in the glow of the flames. Betty watched her husband

wrestling with some inner demon. His forehead was furrowed and he looked furtive. He contemplated his meal, pushing his red potatoes around the plate,

not looking up. He barely poked at his chicken. She stretched her leg under the table, dropped off one of her slippers, and playfully ran a toe up his trouser l

leg. He was lost in thought.

"Stephen! All I've seen is the top of your head! Are you alright? What's up?" she cried.

He sighed and looked up at her, managing a small smile, "I'm sorry, my dear. I've a lot on my mind lately." His eyes glistened in the candlelight.

"I've noticed. You're not your usual self. Anything I can do?"

He took a deep breath, "Betty? I hope you won't be disappointed or embarrassed or ashamed by what I'm about to tell you. Please hear me out before you

say anything."

The bottom fell out of her stomach as she braced herself for the worst. She didn't know what to expect after an intro like that.

"Go ahead," she said flatly, trying not to sound like a paranoid wife.

All at once, the words came flooding, and they tumbled out in one breath, "Betty, I _hate_ my job! I hate being a floorwalker. I thought I would like it, but I

don't. I miss the esprit de corps of working in Packing and Maintenance. The past two weeks, I have felt useless. I miss waking up and watching you lay

there sleeping. I miss the quiet time I used to have in the morning. I miss coming home and you're waiting for me and you hug me as I walk through the door

and tell me I smell good, when I know I smell terrible. I miss my routine. I miss Sunday afternoon football. I miss going to the pub and having a few laughs

with my mates. My whole day is spent refereeing battles between the men in my department, the cleaning staff, and Packing and Maintenance. There is

resentment in my department because I was promoted ahead of them. The men in my department have shunned me, so I eat lunch with Packing and

Maintenance, which causes more friction…" He looked exasperated and the corners of his mouth drooped.

She jumped up, ran over to his side of the table, stood behind him, and flung her arms around his neck, "Oh, you poor thing! You've had all that bottled up all

this time? No wonder you've been looking glum. And your performance has dropped off a bit in the past few weeks as well…"

His eyebrows shot up and he bristled, "It has? What do you mean?"

"Well, you haven't been up to your usual standards," she stated as if she were mentioning the weather.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he snorted.

"One doesn't like to complain about such things. I figured the drop in quality was just a one-off."

"Perhaps after dinner we should go upstairs and work on that a bit! I would like to raise my points in the standings!" he huffed in mock indignation; he was

flirting with her now. She enjoyed his change in demeanor; she missed this side of him. She laughed and he could feel his stress level drop. His eyes were

like little half-moons as he turned his head up and smiled up at her.

"That's my husband," she purred and kissed the top of his head, "I'm glad we've got that sorted out. I didn't know what to expect. You do whatever you

think's best and I will stand behind you no matter what you decide," she declared.

"_Really_? I was afraid to tell you! I was afraid you'd be cross with me. You seemed so happy that day I came to Grace Brothers to tell you of my promotion."

"I was happy because I thought you were happy about it. Stephen, I didn't fall in love with a floorwalker; I fell in love with you! I married you for _you_."

He smiled, relieved, and reached up to put his hand to her cheek.

She kissed his palm, "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to ask Mr. Woodward for my position back. I like being behind the scenes, the backbone of the store."

She walked back around the table back to her chair and eased into it. She smiled warmly at him, admiring his humility and honesty.

"I'm proud of you, sweetie," she pursed her lips and blew him a kiss.

He picked up his fork and began to tuck into his dinner with gusto.

* * *

><p>"Do you want to wash up or wipe?" she asked.<p>

"I'll wipe," he smiled.

After dinner was one of the times they enjoyed being together. They cleaned the kitchen and did up the dishes. He watched as Betty ran the hot water into

the plastic dishpan and squeezed in some dish soap. The basin billowed with suds. She filled the sink with hot rinse water.

She slipped on a pair of pink rubber gloves and began to scrub the plates. After rinsing a plate, she handed it to Stephen. He dried it and stacked it in the

cupboard. He looked at Betty out of the corner of his eye. He moved closer to her and nudged her with his hip, smiling impishly. She smiled at him, leaned

closer and patted his bum with her wet gloved hand. He narrowed his eyes, reached into the dishpan, scooped up some suds and pawed them

onto her nose. She sputtered, blowing the froth from her face, then reached into the sink and slapped at the water, splashing the side of him. He grabbed

the bottle of dish soap, aimed it at her, and squeezed a stream out onto her clothes. She bit her bottom lip and glared at him. He laughed, snatched up

another handful of foam, and smacked her bum. She splashed him again. He grabbed her hand mid-flight and reached for her other hand. Grabbing hold of

it, he backed her against the worktop, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. She cupped his face in her wet hands. She liked the way his

body felt against hers. He nuzzled her neck as she slid his braces down, resting her hands on his hips. His eyebrows shot up. He lifted her onto the worktop

and stood between her parted knees, kissing her.

"Only _you_ could get aroused washing dishes!" she huffed. He tittered and buried his face in her chest.


	22. Happy Anniversary

**Fast Forward 6 Months**

**Happy Anniversary**

Betty perused the card rack in the stationery department at Grace Brothers. Stephen and her anniversary was coming up. She could hardly believe they had been married a year. She thumbed through the cards, "Too syrupy! Too corny. Too dismal." She couldn't find a card.

Finally she found one. It was blank inside. She took it to the counter.

"Did you find everything satisfactory?" the salesgirl asked, ringing up the purchase.

"Oh, yes!" Betty answered, "My anniversary's coming up!" she announced proudly.

"Oh, congratulations! Will there be anything else?"

"No. That will do. Thank You."

* * *

><p>She headed back up in the lift to the Ladies' Department. The lift bell dinged and the doors opened. She signed back in from lunch and headed to her counter to write in the card.<p>

"To the best husband in the whole wide world: I Love You, Stephen! Happy Anniversary! Love, Betty," she scrolled in the card. The slid the card into its envelope, licked the flap and sealed it shut. She set the card into her handbag and then strode to the cloakroom to put it away.

Miss Brahms returned with Mr. Humphries and Mr. Lucas from lunch. She signed in and returned to the counter next to Betty.

"Mrs. Peacock, what're you and Captain Peacock gonna do for your anniversary? I can't believe it's been a year already! How time flies!"

"He hasn't said anything yet. Maybe it'll be a surprise," she mused.

The phone rang in the Ladies' Department. Miss Brahms answered it, "Ladies' Intimate Apparel, Miss Brahms speaking. Oh, hello, Captain Peacock! We was just talking 'bout you!"

"Hello, Miss Brahms, may I please speak to Mrs. Peacock?" He couldn't get used to calling Betty 'Mrs. Peacock' and he smiled every time he said it.

Miss Brahms handed the receiver to Betty.

"Hi, Honey!" she chirped, "I can't talk long…"

"Hello, Betty Dear! Our anniversary falls on August Bank Holiday. My department is going to be shut. I wanted to see if you'd like to go to Brighton for a dirty weekend!"

Her face went flush and she raised her eyebrows, "C-Couldn't we just stay home for that?" she sputtered.

"Well, I suppose. However, I would like to go back to our little Bed and Breakfast. I liked it there," he explained, "I liked that big four-poster with the featherbed, the gas-log fire, walking distance to the beach..." he trailed off.

"The beach is what you're interested in! Especially at night!" she reprimanded him playfully.

"True," he blushed, looking sheepish, even though she couldn't see him, "So, what do you think? Would you like to go?"

She bubbled, "Yes, I want to go!"

"Good, because I've already made the reservation!" he gloated.

"Cheeky monkey! Why'd you bother to call and ask me if you made a decision?"

He chortled, "I wanted to hear your reaction, that's all."

"I have to go, Rumbold's coming over. I'll see you tonight. Bye, Love." She cradled the receiver and moved over to the other side of the counter nearer Miss Brahms.

"What was that all about? Your face is red!" Miss Brahms questioned.

"He wants to go to Brighton for our anniversary…and he was talking naughty!"

Miss Brahms shook her head and tittered, "It's all go at your place, innit?"

"That'll do, Miss Brahms!" Betty snorted.

* * *

><p><span>Anniversary Day <span>

Stephen slept soundly as Betty trod to the loo in the middle of the night. They made it through the first year. She stood in the doorway of the bathroom watching him sleep. Soft moonlight lit the room. He lay curled on his side; a soft smile played on his lips.

She took out a bright red lipstick and wrote on the bathroom mirror: "Happy Anniversary. I Love You!"

He would be sure to see it when he went in to shave. She lightly padded over to his side of the bed, bent over and gently kissed his cheek. His breath hitched and he stirred slightly. She tiptoed back to her side of the bed and slipped in. His arm snaked around her and he drew her to him.

"Happy Anniversary, Betty!" he slurred groggily.

"Happy Anniversary, Darling," she whispered.

"Thank you for marrying me," he crooned.

"Thank _you_ for asking me to!" she countered.

"Thank you for taking me back."

"Thank _you_ for coming back!" she answered.

They gazed into each other's eyes, and at the same time, they had the same thought and in unison they said, "Thank you for loving me!" They both started giggling and hugging.

"Stephen, do you think we'll be this silly when we're married twenty years?" she mused.

"I sincerely hope so!" They erupted into a cacophony of giggles and titters. He kissed her tenderly, "I love you, Betty!"

"I love you, too, Stephen."

They fell asleep in each others' arms, their laughter trailing off.

* * *

><p>Betty sat down to coffee. Stephen had purchased a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers and arranged them in a vase on the breakfast table. Their bright yellow matched Betty's hair. Betty handed him the card she bought. He tore open the envelope and read the card aloud:<p>

_"To the best husband in the whole wide world: I Love You, Stephen! Happy Anniversary! Love, Betty."_ He stared at her silently.

"Are you alright, Sweetie?" she asked him. He almost looked sad. He felt overwhelmed by her unconditional love for him.

"I just hope I can live up to that standard," he contemplated. He studied her face; she was beautiful and she was his wife. He felt his heart leap, " I never want this feeling to end."

She stood up, crossed over to where he was sitting and perched in his lap, "I love you so much. You _are_ the best husband in the whole wide world. Happy Anniversary!" she brushed her lips lightly across his. He embraced her warmly, closed his eyes, and smiled contentedly.

"Let's get ready to go. It's an hour and a half to Brighton. I want to walk on the beach during daylight," he hinted.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the Bed &amp; Breakfast. Stephen got out of the car, walked to Betty's side, and opened the door for her. She looked lovely in a cream skirt and jacket. He took their luggage from the boot of the car and they headed inside.<p>

"How did you get a reservation for August Bank Holiday weekend?" she asked suspiciously.

"I made the reservation last year when we were here!" he stated self-confidently, smiling impishly. He winked at her.

Their room was at the ready: champagne was icing in a bucket; candles were already lit; the gas-log fire was gently flickering. Stephen entered the room first, set their things inside, and returned for Betty. She put her arm around his neck and he lifted her and carried her inside. He set her down on the bed and sat down next to her. He reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved a black velvet jewelry box, and handed it to Betty.

"Happy anniversary, Darling!" he offered the box to her.

She opened the box and her eyes widened, "Oh, Stephen! Thank you! Happy anniversary!"

It was a small heart encrusted with diamonds, hanging on a dainty gold chain.

"Allow me," he said, taking the necklace from the box and fastening it around her neck. He kissed the back of her neck, "I love you, Betty!"

She walked into the loo and closed the door. He laid back on the bed, slipping off his trousers and removing his jacket and shirt; he was attired in his silk boxers and a vest, still wearing his socks.

The door opened and Betty stood in the doorway in a sexy white lace baby doll with matching lace panties. Stephen's eyes popped wide open and his eyebrows shot up. He gasped and his mouth formed an 'O' as he ogled.

He jumped up and rushed over to her. He craned his neck around back to have a look at her. He eyed her up and down, drinking in every bit of her femininity and sexiness. He slid one strap off with his fingertip and kissed her shoulder.

"You look delicious, Darling," he breathily whispered, "Is this _my_ anniversary present?" he flirted.

"Mm-Hmm," she cooed, enveloping him in her arms.


End file.
